


Finding Steve Rogers

by CaptainHoney, kawherp



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, Inspired by Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainHoney/pseuds/CaptainHoney, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawherp/pseuds/kawherp
Summary: Steve always says he's just a kid from Brooklyn. What if Steve had been found in the wreckage of the Valkyrie a lot sooner than we saw in the movies? If he isn't thrown into a fight with aliens soon after waking up in a new world, how will he fill his days? Will that kid from Brooklyn get a chance to figure out who he is apart from the icon he brought to life? Or is he destined to lose himself to the man Project Rebirth helped create?





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> From the author: 
> 
> I was lucky to get CaptainHoney's artwork in the reverse big bang. I was blessed with additional drawings to go with the story I cooked up. I can't thank her enough for her willingness to lend her talents to the cause, and then clean up the mess of typos I was no longer able to see. 
> 
> Thank you to both CaptainHoney and Holsvick for beta reading efforts, including feedback on what wasn't working and needed to be more developed. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> I've never participated in a big bang before (forward or reverse) and was pleased at how well this one was organized. I joined because I needed to mentally switch gears for a bit and challenge myself to write a short story. I had an outline, darn it, and I was going to stick to it! I had everything planned scene by scene! A dash of real life popped in. The characters refused to abide by my outline and encouraged the muse to keep adding new details and new threads. Bronchitis happened. The deadline loomed. Finally, I managed to herd this motley cast in the general direction I intended and insisted that we were Not. Writing. An. Epic. Saga. I ended up dragging the muse into a dark alley, wielding a trash can lid as a shield, and hiding behind it as the muse flung scene ideas at me until she grew tired. 
> 
> At around 34,000 words, I can't say it's a short story, but it's a lot shorter than most of my other works, published and unpublished. It's been fun, and stressful, and interesting to learn that I am 75% pantser and 35% planner, no matter how I might wish otherwise. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my contribution to the big bang and find it to be worthy of CaptainHoney's artistic talents.
> 
>  

His limbs felt heavy and the air smelled stale. He tried to shift, but his right arm didn’t move.

“You’re safe, Steve. I’m here. It’s alright, darling,” he heard the woman say from his right side. “Just rest. Everything is going to be fine.”

He knew that voice. He could trust that voice. Secure in that knowledge, he let the darkness claim him.

****

Occasionally, he heard voices.

“… Can’t leave him here alone. No one should wake to this nightmare by themselves,” she said from beside him.

“Surviving is a nightmare?” a male voice said, soft and gentle.

“Daniel, what would you call that sort of a time jump? We all got to come home and move on. After everything he did, we owe him that much.”

“You’re an amazing woman. Always have been. Call me if anything changes?”

“Of course.”

****

When he woke the next time, he was feeling more like himself. The air still had that stale smell, but the surface he lay on was comfortable. The radio was playing music softly in the background. Music? The plane…

Frowning a bit to himself, he opened his eyes. This wasn’t the Valkyrie. He was lying in bed in some sort of hospital room. Turning his head, he saw the profile of an older woman asleep in the chair beside him. Something about her looked familiar…

“Where am I?” he asked softly. His voice was gravelly with disuse and the rough sound startled her from her slumber.

“Steve?” In an instant, she was on her feet and leaning over him, his hand clasped in both of hers.

He felt his stomach relocate to somewhere between his knees. He knew that voice, those eyes. “Peggy?”

Smiling through her tears, she nodded at him and squeezed his hand. “It’s me, Steve. It’s been a long time. The war is over and you’re safe. We’re in Washington, D.C., inside a facility that is the legacy of the SSR. We call is SHIELD, which is an acronym for a mouthful you don’t need to worry about right now.”

The gold band on her left hand caught his eye and he couldn’t help but stare.

Following his gaze, she sighed. “As observant as ever, not that I’m surprised. Yes, I am married. It’s been a long time, Steve. We all thought….I thought… that you were dead. Even Howard gave up looking after the third decade. I had to let you go.”

Nodding without even knowing what he was thinking, Steve sat up slowly. Peggy let go of him, only to sit down on the bed beside him and put her hand on his knee. Looking down at himself, he didn’t recognize the clothes. He seemed to be in an undershirt and some sort of stretchy pants and plain socks.

“How do you feel? Do you want me to call the doctor?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m fine. The plane? The last thing I remember was hitting the water. We were talking about going dancing.”

“We were.” She reached out and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

He gazed into dark brown eyes that hadn’t aged like the rest of her face. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, Steve. You’re alive, but the world has changed while you were frozen in the ice. I wish there were a way to ease the shock, but I can’t think—”

His stomach rumbled loudly.

Peggy laughed. “Some things never change. I’ll ask them to get you some food.”

He watched as she stood up. The ring on her hand was a magnet for his eyes that he couldn’t resist. “Your husband…. Does he…. Are you happy?”

Peggy’s smile faltered then. “You still have no idea how to talk to a woman.” Sadness laced her voice. “Daniel is a good man and I love him deeply. He never begrudged me for the future I’d dreamed of with you. He stood by my side when a lesser man would have run for the hills for the way the public mocked him for putting my career before his own. I would never have managed to do this job that I love and raise two wonderful children if he hadn’t stood up to bullies the same way you always did. In time, I’d like to think you two could be friends. Yes, Steve, I’ve been happy. We’ve made a good life together. I always told myself you’d have wanted me to move on, so I did, though I’ll always be sorry you and I missed our chance.”

It was hard to hear, but Steve saw in her eyes that she meant every word. He believed her. She was too strong not to have a partner who stood by her as fiercely as she had faced down every barrier she’d encountered. Swallowing hard to get past the lump in his throat, he nodded. “That’s good. He was here? Earlier?”

“Yes, he’s been worried about me wearing myself out sitting here. Let me get your food ordered and we’ll talk more.”

“Actually, Peggy, I think I’d like some time alone. Go home for tonight.” He couldn’t hold it together much longer. The sun slanting through the window spoke of afternoon and though he wanted to spend time with Peggy, it wasn’t his place to keep her from her husband. Husband. The word made him want to scream, to run, do _anything_ to end this nightmare. He prayed she wouldn’t make him beg.

“If that’s what you want. This is our medical wing, so there is a nurse on duty just down the corridor. If you change your mind, he can call me. He’ll also get you anything—”

“He?”

Peggy smiled sadly. “It’s 1985, Steve. There are male nurses and female agency leaders. We’ve got a long way to go, but things have gotten better in the last forty years. Have him call me if you need anything. I’m not the director for nothing. If he gives you any trouble, just tell him what I did to Hodge.” With a wink, she turned and left the room, heels clicking with authority on the tile floor.

Steve let himself fall back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Forty years.

“I made it to the future, Buck, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now,” he whispered to himself before the tears broke through.

****

“Captain Rogers, my name is Mike and I’m your nurse. The doctor will be in to see you shortly. In the meantime, they want you to start with a mild diet. It’s just oatmeal and some fruit. I hope that is okay.”

Steve had wiped the tears from his cheeks as soon as he’d heard footsteps approaching.

Mike carried a tray and had a passable—but somewhat fake—smile, as he set the dinner tray on the cart nearest the bed. “We’re all happy to see you up and about, Sir. Your survival may be secret, but for those in the know, it’s started quite the buzz.”

“Thank you, Mike. Whatever you have there will be better than rations.”

“Very true. Call me if you need anything. I’ll leave you to it. “

As soon as Mike was out of the room, Steve let his shoulders slump. A parade of doctors was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. He took the cover off the tray and was amazed by the assortment of fresh fruit that was cut up in the bowl. Strawberries, blueberries, grapes, cherries, banana, and a bright green fruit he didn’t recognize were all mixed together. Spearing the mystery green fruit with a fork, he was surprised by its sweet tang that reminded him of strawberries. He’d have to ask Mike what it was called. ‘Focus on the present, on the good things,’ Ma would tell him. He was trying.

“Sir, you can’t go in there,” he heard Mike say.

“Son, I’ve known that man since your parents were in diapers, and I owe him my life, so you can stop right there.”

Steve froze mid-bite, recognizing the voice.

“I understand, sir, but the doctors—”

“The doctors know _nothing_. Call Director Sousa if you must, but he’s leaving, right now, with me. You can either make a fool of yourself, or you can make sure General Rogers’ first day in 1985 ends on a happy note. You don’t want to be the man that kept Captain America prisoner in a government facility, do you?”

“He’s a patient, not a prisoner. We need to make sure—”

“Son, let me explain to you what’s going to happen. You are going to make a phone call and get Steve a decent pair of clothes from the field operations department. Don’t even think about pretending you all can’t figure out his sizes, including a nice pair of shoes. Pick up that phone, make the call. I expect those items to be delivered right here to this desk, within five minutes. Make sure his shield is brought up here, too.

“I’m going to go see General Rogers and tell him what he can already hear me telling you, all so you can save face. Once I’ve said hello, I’m going to come back here and get those clothes and his shield from you and take them into that room. Once he’s dressed in something more dignified than hospital scrubs or God-knows-what-clothing you all stuffed him in, General Rogers and I are going to walk past this desk, out the side doors, and to the parking garage where I have my car parked. From there, what we do isn’t any of your business. There will be no doctor exams, helpful phone calls, or agents trying to surveil my house.

“You, son, are going to go home tonight knowing you did the right thing and thanking your lucky stars you got to meet the man who saved all the residents of New York City and helped end the second World War. Someday, when you’re an old man like me, you’ll get to tell your kids you did right by Captain America. And if you get any grandiose ideas about interfering in any way with the scenario I just described, I’ll be happy to give you an up-close and personal demonstration of why we were called the Howling Commandos.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike said in a voice so meek and quiet even Steve had a hard time hearing him.

Steve bowed his head, blinking back a fresh wave of tears as he heard Dugan’s approach.

“Hey Cap. I’m here to spring you. We don’t even have a thirty-mile hike behind enemy lines to deal with, so stop killing that fork and get over here,” Dugan said from the doorway, his voice filled with the smile Steve was afraid to look up and see.

He looked down at the bent metal he’d unknowingly mangled and dropped the fork on the tray and slowly stood, looking over at his teammate. Tim looked older but still had that horrible mustache Bucky had always teased him about. He made it one step before Tim closed the distance and wrapped him in a hug that said everything. Steve allowed himself to enjoy it far longer than he knew he should. “It’s _really_ good to see you, Dugan.”

“Likewise, but I wish the circumstances were better for you. I know this all has to be a shock. Peggy called me a bit ago, totally beside herself.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong.” Steve leaped to her defense without thinking as he finally let go of Duggan and really let himself look at him for the first time. His face may have aged, but the humor and friendship in his eyes were a familiar comfort.

“I know. I also know that her original idea of having you stay with her and Daniel would be rubbing salt in a wound that’s still bleeding. That’s why you’re coming home with me. My wife suggested it, actually. Our boys are grown and out of the house, so we’ve got room to spare and the quiet you need. We also have a distinct lack of medical personnel poking into your business. These modern docs don’t know a thing about you. Oatmeal? With your appetite? Book-smart idiots, all of them. How does a steak dinner sound to you?”

Steve laughed softly. “Really good.” He rubbed one hand on the back of his neck. “Why did you keep calling me General Rogers?” he asked in a voice too low for Mike to overhear.

“You were MIA for thirty years. You’re entitled to the pay and automatic promotions you earned based on your rank at the time you disappeared. Peggy and Howard have a legal a team sorting it all out, but you’re a rich man, in addition to being a general. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Rich? Me?”

“Invest it right—we’ll make sure you have people to help you do that—and you’ll never have to work another day in your life.” Dugan held up his hand to ward off the protest he knew was coming. “It means you have choices, Cap, and the security of knowing you’ll never go hungry again.”

Steve nodded, trying to absorb the idea of not having to work to survive.

“If I did my job of scaring young Mike, he should have some decent clothes waiting for you. I’m taking you to a fantastic steak house I know of not far from my house. I promise even you are going to be stuffed by the time we’re done eating. One day at a time, Cap. It’s the only way forward. Trust me.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, Steve just nodded.

****

Once he had changed into clothing that was less like the underwear the hospital staff had dressed him in, Steve slid the shield onto his arm, picked up the bundled clothes he’d changed out of, and followed Dugan though the corridors. Miraculously, or perhaps due to Dugan’s orders, they didn’t encounter anyone else.

Steve stopped as soon as he was outside, eyes closed as he tipped his eyes back and let the sunshine warm his face.

“Cap?” the older man asked from in front of him, his voice full of concern.

“I’m okay, Dum Dum. It’s just….” Steve opened his eyes and looked at the fluffy clouds that decorated the blue sky. “I never thought I’d see the sun again. The Valkyrie’s hull was breached, and it was a cold flight before putting her into the water.” The warmth of the sun seeped into the bones, chasing away the memories of being cold. “I remember summers so hot Ma and I slept on the fire escape. I should know better’n to complain.” He shook himself from his reverie and smiled wanly, starting to walk once more.

“Don’t get all nostalgic on me now, Cap.” Dugan said, slapping a firm hand on his back. “I have no fondness for mud, cold, or heat. The missus and I have air conditioning in our house and by God, I like it. The place stays warm all winter, cool all summer, and comfortable every darn day.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“You won’t have to. Jan and I plan on having you around for a while. Don’t start fretting about earning your keep, either. Director Peggy Sousa is a very thorough woman and won’t leave any detail untended. Your only focus now needs to be on transitioning home from the war. As much as the rest of the guys want to swarm into town like a plague of locusts and welcome you back, no one’s planning a trip until you’re ready. We know this all has to be a bigger shock to you than it is us, and we’ve had a few days to wrap our heads around it.”

“Everyone else made it home?”

“Yup.” Dugan stopped by a simple, dark green car and unlocked the passenger door for Steve. “The only Howlers lost were our heart and compass.” He met Steve’s eyes, sympathy plain on his face. “Our heart’s still gone, but we’re sure glad to have our compass back.”

“Bucky fell from the train two days ago.”

“I know. I also know his sister Rebecca never blamed you for it. She’s still living in New York and is champing at the bit to come see you. She’s as stubborn as Barnes was, so I don’t know how much longer we can hold her off. If it gets too bad, we’ll let her come see you and put her in charge of keeping the President from making official announcements before you’re ready.”

“The President?” Steve sputtered as Dugan got in and started the car.

“The President, one former actor named Ronald Regan. Don’t worry. Peggy will handle him, the press, and anyone else who tries to make this difficult for you. Like I said, take this one day at a time. The rest of us have your back. For now, figure out how you want your steak done.”


	2. Waking Up

“Steven Rogers, meet my wife Jan. She’s kept me out of trouble for coming up on fifty years next month. That alone qualifies her for sainthood.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.” Steve said quietly, trying to keep his breathing even as he clutched his small bundle of clothes to his chest and focused on the familiar weight of his shield on his arm. It was all too much.

“Call me Jan, please. You’re family.” She pulled Steve into a warm hug, which he returned with his free hand. “Thank you, for saving Tim’s life years ago. I can’t imagine what my life would have been without him.” She pulled back and took Steve’s empty hand in both of hers. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Just Steve.”

“Okay, Just Steve. Let me show you where your room is and then I’ll give you brief tour of the kitchen and pantry. Think of this as your home now, so don’t go standing on ceremony, okay?”

She looped her arm in his and led him towards the stairs. “Tim, why don’t you put a pot of coffee on and dig out a deck of cards. I want to see if Just Steve is as good of a poker player as you claim. Is that okay with you?”

Steve nodded and smiled a little bit. Coffee, cards, and easy conversation sounded perfect. For the moment, at least, there was a small flame of hope burning in his chest that he’d find his way through this.

****

 The following evening, Steve lay in bed feeling strangely content, if still a bit unsettled by the abrupt changes in his life. After he’d fixed breakfast, taking Jan’s words to heart that he should treat the house as his home, Jan had taken him shopping for clothes. In deference to his past experience with shopping, she’d taken him to Sears department store and helped him pick out slacks and shirts he felt comfortable with, some more modern pieces like blue jeans and henleys she insisted were fashionable by modern standards, and then some jackets and coats for different seasons. Even underwear had changed, but Jan had guided him past the thong and bikini underwear to basic boxers and briefs. Her matter of fact way of explaining each option of attire gave him insight to why Timothy had fallen in love with her so many years ago.

Jan had even helped him find shoes for everyday as well as for exercise. He had to admit that the running shoes were comfortable on his feet and he looked forward to using them, though the fluorescent colors offended his sense of decorum. When the prices had made his stomach turn, she’d simply smiled softly and promised him that the prices were reasonable, and that SHIELD was paying for it all, so he needn’t be concerned.

The attire and behavior of the people in the store was jarring. Everyone seemed so much louder, faster, and more brash than he was used to. He’d seen someone with pierced eyebrows and a young lady with spiked, hot pink hair. Jan had been an anchor, reminding him that he wasn’t alone in this strange new world.

Back at the house, she’d shown him how to use the washer and dryer, explained about permanent press clothing, and set him loose with her iron and ironing board. His ma would be proud to see how well he’d remembered that skill. Poor they may have been, but they had pride making the best of the clothing they had. He’d never left their home without making sure his slacks and shirts were mended and ironed. Now, he had a whole week’s worth of basic clothing, not including the athletic wear Jan had he insisted he purchase. He even had a suit on order! It wasn’t a true bespoke, but the on-site tailor had taken his measurements and was going to make some basic alterations to make the off-the-rack pieces fit him better.

After a quiet dinner, he’d retired to his bedroom. He’d intended to read a bit but had instead lay down in the bed and let the events of the day replay in his mind. The stabbing ache of Bucky’s absence hadn’t eased but talking to Bucky in his mind brought him some basic comfort. He knew Bucky so well it wasn’t hard to imagine Bucky’s side of the conversation.

Exhausted and sad, he fell asleep not long after the sun slipped below the horizon.

****

“You done filling your hollow leg yet?”

Steve looked up as Dugan—Tim—he corrected himself, came into the kitchen and refilled his coffee mug before sitting at the kitchen bar. Steve forced a smile before he turned back to the omelet he was making. “You saying I eat a lot?”

“Not stating the obvious, just asking if you’re almost done. I want to take you somewhere and I’m not getting any younger. Wear your sneakers; we’re going to be walking.”

“Okay.” Steve plated his omelet and set it on the counter so he could sit beside Tim. “Anything else I should know?”

“Probably lots of things. Eat up and explain to me why you still insist on getting up at army-thirty every morning.”

“Never had the luxury of sleeping in. Ma always said the early bird gets the worm.”

Tim snorted. “Who wants to eat worms? I forgot to tell you last night that Jan picked up the rule books for driving a car and motorcycle in Virginia.” He nodded toward the paper books on the counter. “While Peggy can probably cut through the red tape, it might be better for you to go through the process. I remember your driving and it still gives me nightmares.”

Steve furrowed his brow as he chewed. “I don’t remember ever driving a vehicle you were in.”

“That’s because I knew better! I saw what you did to that poor bike.”

“I miss that bike.”

“I can find out if Stark has it. It might be in the Smithsonian. Newer ones have some sweet features. Read the books and we’ll use your new ID to get you a driving permit. You can get your car and bike licenses at the same time. There are classes offered, too. You don’t need them, per se, but it might be a way to get you interacting with others in a more limited setting.”

“I’ll think about it.” He could hear Bucky telling him to stop being an idiot and sign up for the classes already. “Actually, let’s just go ahead and do it. I’ll memorize those books tonight.” Finished eating, Steve stood up and washed his plate.

“Then we’ll endure the horrors of the Virginia DMV tomorrow.” Tim shuddered. “Bring a book to read. Rotting inside their hallways is almost as bad as a hospital waiting room. I think it’s the government’s way of pushing people towards public transit.”

***

“Arlington National Cemetery?” Steve read the signs as Tim parked the car near the visitor center entrance. Dread curled in his stomach.

“Relax. We’re not here to visit graves, though there is a nice memorial to you and Barnes on the grounds if you want to see it. I was talking to Peggy yesterday and this is a solution for you.” Tim locked the car and led Steve towards the entrance. “Figured it’s easier to show you first.”

“Okay.” Steve took a deep breath. He trusted Tim.

“Got a thing against cemeteries?”

“No. They’re usually peaceful. I remember reading about Arlington in school. Never expected to get to see it.”

“Welcome to the future.”

***

They walked the grounds for a while, taking a lesser traveled path not far from the main entrance. The breeze through the trees and the sound of birds singing settled his unease and he looked over at Tim, who was doing his best to look bored and failing terribly. “Spill.”

Tim looked at his watch. “Darn it. You didn’t even last five minutes, and I told Peggy you’d wait to ask questions for at least ten. You owe me a beer!”

Steve laughed. “Next bar we come to.” Thankfully, he had a five crisp twenty-dollar bills in his wallet. Jan had assured him that it wasn’t much, but it made him feel like a millionaire. “What problem are you two conspiring to solve?”

“You.” Tim punched him lightly in the arm. “You and your boundless energy, to be more specific. If you don’t have an outlet, you’ll be climbing the walls in a week. Jan might try to keep you busy with yard work, but even that will only take the edge off. You need a place to run full out without drawing attention to yourself.”

“I can’t run in a cemetery. That’s disrespectful!” Steve came to a dead stop, hands on his hips.

Tim looked skyward. “Where is Barnes when I need him?” Steve heard him mutter, though he probably wasn’t meant to hear it. “The graves here are filled with soldiers and their families, every last one of them. Plus a president. The point is, they’re military. We take care of our own. You need a safe place to run full out away from curious people who ask too many questions.”

“It’s still disrespectful.”

“Unless you plan on vaulting over the gravestones, you’re not disrespecting anyone, Steve. These men gave their lives, just like you did, to protect our ideals. If I could summon any one of them to ask their permission, they’d tell you the same thing: they’ll gladly share their final resting place with a fellow soldier if it helps you cope. Once the public knows you’re alive, it won’t matter if you run like you’ve got the Germans chasing you. For now, though, this solves the problem.”

Steve sighed, unable to argue that latter point. “I’ll think about it. For the record, I still feel like this is disrespectful.”

“Feel about it how you like. The gates don’t open to the public until eight. Before that, the only people getting in are the guards for the Tomb of the Unknowns. You’ll enter where they do, using your SHIELD ID. We’re close enough to the house that you can jog here as a warm up, run full out for as many miles as you need, and jog home as a cool down You’ll be back at the house eating breakfast before sane people are having their first cup of morning coffee.”

“If I agree to do this.”

“Stubborn, thy name is Rogers.” Tim just shook his head, unwilling to argue. “Come on, while we’re here, I should tell you about JFK.

 ****

 After giving Steve a brief summary of that miserable chapter of history, Tim led Steve away from President Kennedy’s grave. “There’s one more grave I want you to see,” he mumbled, and headed in a different direction.

Sensing his deteriorating mood, Steve walked beside his friend in silence. Tim’s shoulders slumped and his gait slowed as they left the footpath and walked slowly down a row of headstones before coming to a stop. Time closed his eyes prayer.

Steve waited a respectful distance away until he was done. “Dugan?” he asked softly.

Tim knelt in front of the white slab and ran his fingers over the text. “My youngest son, Jamie.”

Steve dropped to his knees beside Tim and read the text. “Vietnam?”

“That’s what they called it.” Jim wiped a tear from his eye. “It was a mess from day one. Jamie was drafted and he reported for duty like the patriot he was. Nineteen years old, used as cannon fodder. Dead before he got a chance to live. As bad as war is, it’s even worse sending your kid off to fight.”

“I can’t imagine.” What more could he say?

“Unfortunately, I don’t have to.” He bowed his head for a moment and when he spoke again, his voice was even softer. “A lot of good things happened in the world after you crashed the Valkyrie. A lot of bad things happened, too.”

“I wish I could have known him.”

“Me, too. He was a good kid. You’d have liked him.” Tim got to his feet, leaning on Steve to do so. Once Steve was standing, too, Tim looked him in the eye. “I’m both a vet and the parent of a kid killed in action. After everything you sacrificed, it’s okay for you to run here after hours until you’re ready to go public.”

“Okay,” Steve conceded softly. If it was this important to Tim, he’d at least try it and see if it helped.


	3. A Gift From the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're in for a real treat with this chapter. It's the one that has most of the art, mainly because Steve has some boxes to go through.

After having lunch with Jan and Tim, Steve retreated to his bedroom to see what exactly Peggy had brought over while he and Tim had been out. He felt bad about avoiding Peggy for the moment, but Tim had insisted they all understood he needed some time.

There was a large cardboard box on the bed, dusty and looking like it had been in storage for many years. Beside it, a stack of three gift-wrapped boxes were stacked neatly, complete with curled ribbons cascading down the pile like a festive waterfall. Leery of what he’d find, he opened the card first.

 

_Dear Steve,_

_I remember when you told me that the two constants you had in your life were your art and Bucky. The war took him from you. Please don’t let it take your art as well. You’re so much more than just a soldier. I hope these supplies help you find what you’re looking for in this new world you find yourself in. The old box contains the items Rebecca Barnes sent to me once you were lost. It is my privilege to return the contents to your talented hands._

_With love always,_

_Peggy_

Steve opened the gifts first. There was a leather-bound sketchbook with hundreds of pages of creamy white paper, drawing pencils that had different hardness for him to experiment with, colored pencils, and a strange putty that was to be rolled and used as an eraser. There was even a folder filled with sampler pages of different types of drawing paper so he could experiment with paper finishes and see what suited him best. A second box contained painting supplies, everything from brushes and paints to hard canvas boards that didn’t need to be stretched over a frame before being used. A tabletop easel was included as well. He’d never before owned such quality materials. Peggy clearly believed his days of drawing on lined notebook paper should be behind him.

Most of all, it was the gift of seeing him that meant the most. She had always seen his potential and believed in him well before the serum took effect. And after, when everyone else saw Captain America, she still saw the kid from Brooklyn who just wanted to do what was right.

It made him want to paint, to try to put his numerous emotions onto a canvas and get them out of his head. Inspired, he set up the easel and canvas and prepared his palate with rich jewel tones. Lost in thought, he painted an abstract sunset with cerulean blues bleeding into deep pinks and oranges over a muddy brown European field. He started with a brush but ended up using a palette knife to layer the acrylic paint onto the canvas in thick stripes, using the edge to cut into the color and shatter the calm. He lost time as he worked, playing with a medium he hadn’t touched since before the war. The result wasn’t beautiful, but it had tamed the raging beast inside him.

 

With a quiet mind, he was ready to face the past.

Leaving his brushes to soak, he went back to the bed and opened the box he had been avoiding. Inside, he found his old sketchbooks. On top, in a folder, were a few loose pages that had images he’d drawn not in notebooks, but on scrap papers he’d scavenged in different places when he’d been in the field and away from his bound volumes.

The bound volumes held too many memories to face this afternoon. But he wanted to see what was in the folder. Carefully, he laid them out on the desk, one by one, and remembered….

The first picture was a sketch he’d actually made with matchsticks as he sat in a damp tent following a raid on a Hydra base. He’d left out any details that identified their location, but he knew exactly which small village in Austria that road had led to, as well as the carnage they’d found beyond the trees. Shuddering at the memory, he laid the paper down and looked to see what was next in the folder.

 

It was one he’d done of Bucky a couple of weeks after the rescued POWs had all marched into the base. In the corner, he’d written “Bucky had a close call with an enemy soldier and is real sore about it, won’t let the doc fix him up.” He remembered too well the haunted look in Bucky’s eyes, his insistence that he was fine, his determination to hide his bruises and not talk about his nightmares. Looking back, he wondered if Bucky had been afraid the doctors would declare him unfit for duty and send him home as a soldier broken by his captivity. He hadn’t asked, and now, he’d never know for sure.

He laid the picture down and found a sketch of Peggy and the Brooklyn bridge. He’d tried to remember the lines of the bridge and been frustrated that some of the details were fuzzy. Bucky, the meddling punk, had caught him sketching Peggy and had gone so far as to draw a terrible cartoon of Captain America with big heart eyes and captioned it “Captain Lovestruck” when Steve was getting them trays from the mess. In a fit of anger that was mainly embarrassment, Steve had scribbled over it. Now, he’d do anything to erase those lines and let him see the marks Bucky had left on these precious pages.

 

Blinking hard, he turned next to the shirtless image he’d drawn of a younger Bucky in the safety of Brooklyn. It was from Before, back when they were safe and innocent, when their biggest problems were earning enough money to keep food in their bellies and shelter over their heads. The page was coffee stained, but seeing how Bucky’s cup had left the mark, it was all the more precious to him. It was proof, if only to Steve, that his friend had been real. He’d left his mark on the world. He wasn’t just a product of Steve’s imagination.

 

He laid the page down and stopped breathing when he saw the crumpled page it had been hiding. He’d drawn the image of Bucky falling from the train the day it had happened. Too exhausted to sleep, too devastated by the loss, he’d hoped that drawing it would let him close his eyes and see anything but the other half of his soul falling to certain death. He’d crumpled it immediately after, unable to look at what he’d drawn.

Glancing down, Steve realized he’d repeated history and forced himself to lay the page down. He smoothed it out the best he could. That was the last time he’d drawn Bucky, the last time he’d seen Bucky. Every day since then took him further away from the first love of his life. Peggy was lost to him, too. How much heartbreak was one person supposed to bear?

 

Crying quietly, Steve gathered up the papers and put them back into the box and shoved the entire mess into the closet. He missed his old life so much it was a physical pain in his chest with every breath he took.

Leaving the brushes to soak despite his guilt, he lay down on the bed and curled up on his side, pretending Bucky was there to hold him. “I miss you so much,” he whispered as he quietly cried until he was completely wrung out.

 

****

 

Over the next few weeks, life settled into a routine. Steve got up early and went for a run in Arlington National Cemetery. At the end of his run, he stopped by Jamie’s grave and softly offered his thanks for sharing the peaceful setting. He always offered some observation about Tim or Jan, then asked Jamie to keep an eye on Bucky, who was probably the biggest troublemaker Heaven had ever seen.

Back at the house, he showered and made breakfast for himself as well as his hosts, then took his new motorcycle out for a drive. He toured the city, on bike and on foot, and visited the Smithsonian’s numerous museums and art galleries. Lunch was always at a new restaurant. With so many new foods to try, it was only reasonable to make the effort to give different ethnic cuisines a chance to win his favor. Afternoons were spent at the library. Sometimes, he went to a library inside the district, and other times, he went to the one in Arlington, closer to the house. Once there, he read the daily newspaper and then settled down in the stacks to try to catch up on the history he’d missed. The encyclopedias were invaluable in his efforts to get an overview of different topics. He also found the children’s history section to have books that let him get a foundation in the major world events he’d missed without having to invest time in the longer texts written for adults. He could always read the adult books later when he wasn’t trying to cram decades of missed history into his head.

Science books were another revelation. While he had slept in the ice, the molecular structure of DNA had been figured out. There had been numerous advances in understanding how cells worked. In the newspaper, Steve was reading frequent updates about a man currently being kept alive with an artificial heart. The science books directed towards middle and high school students made it relatively easy for him to modernize his education. Perhaps one day, he’d be able to return to school and pursue an art degree.

No matter how lost he was in the books during the afternoon, Steve made sure to be home in time to have dinner with the Dugan before retreating to his room to read his mail. The Howling Commandos and Rebecca had all taken to writing him letters. Rarely did a day pass without some envelope appearing on the threshold to his bedroom door. They wrote about their lives, sent pictures of themselves and their families over the years, and begged Steve to write back when he was ready.

Jan handed him a fancy looking cardboard box to store them in one evening, along with the observation he was getting quite a collection. Now the letters had a home, even if Steve Rogers didn’t.

Every night he sat down at the desk and tried to write a simple letter back. He’d get out the fancy stationary he’d purchased and opened the bottle of ink he’d treated himself to. He’d stumbled into a small shop that sold fountain pens and dip pens and other writing supplies and nearly wept with relief that someone still valued the tools he’d grown up using. After staring at the blank page, he’d start doodling in hopes he’d think of something to write. Inevitably, he drew images from the past and Bucky’s face was in most of them. When the page was full, he’d give up and vow to try again tomorrow. He spent the rest of his evening sketching or painting before going to bed and crying himself to sleep.

One afternoon, as he repeated the pattern while praying something would help him figure out how to start really living again, he overheard Tim’s voice coming from the kitchen as he shut the front door.

“He’s mostly keeping to himself. You know how attached those two were to each other.” There was a long pause as Tim listened to the caller. “I know, but it hasn’t been very long for him. Keep writing and give him time. Don’t you remember calling me in a panic that nothing was the same?” More silence. “Exactly. I just heard him come in and you know that he can hear me.” Tim laughed at something. “Soon, Gabe, I promise.”

Steve didn’t say anything as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself coffee as Dugan hung up the phone. Tim kept a small pot brewing all day long, a reminder, he said, that he was home and could have, “A hot cup any time I damn well please. We even have decent decaff so I can drink it all evening and sleep all night.” A pot of coffee at the ready was one way Tim reminded himself that his war was over. He felt Tim’s eyes on him.

“They care.”

“I know. I’ve tried to write back. It’s just…. I’m no good with words,” Steve said softly with his head bowed. It was good that his back was to Tim so the threatening tears didn’t show. “Especially now.”

“Good thing a picture’s worth a thousand of them, or so I hear.” Tim put a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder and left him alone, retiring to the living room to work on the daily crossword.

He choked back a laugh that was really a half sob as he realized what his hands had been trying to tell him for days. Pictures were something he could do.

Hours later, he had a drawing for each of the Howlers in individual envelopes, addressed and ready to mail. He laid them on the kitchen counter to drop at the post office in the morning.

“Better?” Tim asked, not looking up from newspaper he was reading.

“Getting there.”

Tim nodded. “Jan put a plate in the oven for you.”

“I can’t thank either of you enough—”

“Don’t,” Tim interrupted, putting his paper down for a moment so he could look Steve in the eye. “It’s no more than what you’d do for any of us.

Steve sighed but didn’t argue. He knew it was true.

 

****

A few days later, Tim handed him a stack of large, yellow envelopes and a stack of rigid paper, much like you’d find on the back of a tablet of paper. “I’m getting complaints that you’re folding your drawings.”

Steve eyed the stack warily. “These cost more to mail.”

“Good thing you’re rich.”

Steve frowned at that. He didn’t feel rich. He was still trying to adjust his sense of what things cost to the prices he was seeing in stores. Without a job to bring in money, he was still painfully aware of every cent he spent.

“You may not think your drawings are worth anything, but the Howlers see it differently.” Tim laid several sheets of paper down on the counter, safely away from the breakfast dishes.

Fascinated, Steve picked up the duplicates of some of the sketches he’d sent to the Howlers. In his own mind, he’d named them “The Dancing Monkey Meets the Future” and drew himself confronting the mysteries of his new life.

 

 

 

“You can use the photocopy machine at the library to print duplicates. It will save us all the hassle of coping sets to mail and swapping these behind your back. It’s only ten cents a page at the local library and is virtually instant. Keep a set for yourself. You may not see it now, but these are really good, both insightful and funny. Stop folding them.”

 

****

“I was thinking.”

“Do you know how many nightmares I have because of you saying those three words?” Tim asked wryly as he laid the newspaper down and pinned Steve with his gaze.

Steve smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.” He sat down on the sofa and tried not to fidget. “I’m in a holding pattern and I think I need to get out of it. I’m going to head up to New York and see Howard.”

Tim went dangerously still for a moment.

“He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s alive.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Tim folded the newspaper and laid in on the coffee table. “You need to understand that losing you affected all of us. It was a huge blow.”

Steve waited silently. Dugan wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. They had all cared about each other.

Realizing Steve wasn’t going to press, he pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then looked at the floor. “Howard took it personally. Part of it, I think, was that he had been insulated from the fighting. Losing soldiers to him meant numbers and lists. Losing you? Someone he knew? It cut him off at the knees. He blamed himself for not being able to find your plane, too. He was convinced you’d survived the crash and that we just had to find you.”

“It wasn’t his fault. I never gave Peggy coordinates. The controls were a mess.”

“So was your head. We all knew Barnes meant a lot to you. You broke us all out of Azzano on his behalf. When we got word you’d put the plane down… Let’s just say it wasn’t as much of a shock as you might think.”

“Are you saying I was suicidal?” Steve bristled at the implication.

Tim held up his hand. “I’m saying you were grieving. Serum or not, you’re human. I have absolutely no doubt you did the best you could under the circumstances. I’m just saying if circumstances had been different, if you’d been in better shape mentally, there is a chance you might have found another option. Maybe not, and we’ll never know. That uncertainty ate away at Howard.”

“I expected to die, but it was worth it to save so many others.”

“I know. We all knew you’d done the best you could. Howard, though, he changed. Even after he got married—”

“Howard? He got married?”

“Yeah, to a lady young enough to be his daughter. I had high hopes for them. She truly loved him.”

“Loved?”

“Maybe she still does. But the tension in that house is thick enough to cut with a knife. Howard still chases anything in a skirt and I don’t think Maria expected how much that hurts. Add in the issues with Tony—”

“Tony?”

“Their son. He’s a genius, good kid, really. But Howard was obsessed with finding you, not being a husband and father. After the war ended, or rather morphed into the cold war—The cold war was—

“I’ve read enough to have the gist. What’s Howard got to do with it?”

Tim held up his hands helplessly. “You know how much we relied in him upgrading our equipment. Stark Industries is primarily a weapons manufacturer. He and Stane, his business assistant, partner, or whatever he is...” Tim left the sentence unfinished. “I don’t want to skew your perspective too much. Maybe I’m just overly sensitive. I don’t think Howard ever came home from the war, which is pretty ironic, since he never fought in it, either.”

“You think me going is a bad idea?”

“No. It might help Howard a lot, actually, to see for himself that you’re alive. Make sure you get to meet Tony. That kid needs more good role models in his life and whatever attention you can give him will help. Push to have him come home from school so he can meet you.”

“He doesn’t live at home?”

Tim shook his head sadly. “Howard shipped him off to boarding school first chance he got. I’m not sure if Maria was okay with it or just didn’t know how to fight it. The kid’s only fifteen and already in college at MIT.”

“What kind of a life is that?”

“The kind of life you get when you’re a genius and your dad’s filthy rich. Keep an open mind, maybe I’m reading the whole situation wrong. But any time I’ve been there, the Stark household wasn’t the kind that gave me the warm fuzzies.”


	4. A Change of Scenery

Steve felt woefully out of place as he tucked his motorcycle helmet under his arm and rang the doorbell. His duffel bag was over his shoulder and held a few changes of clothes. Moments later, a tall, slim man opened the door.

“General Rogers, my name is Edwin Jarvis. Welcome to Stark Manor. Please come in. May I take your helmet and jacket for you? Please leave your bag by the door and I’ll take it to the guest room for you.”

“If you’ll call me Steve.” He looked around at the huge entry hall and suddenly felt very out of place. “I hope I’m not imposing, barging in on you all like this.”

“Not at all. Mr. Dugan called us this morning and said you were heading to New York. We’ve all been waiting anxiously for the chance to see you in person.” Edwin quickly put his jacket on a hanger in the closet and laid his helmet on a shelf before closing the door.

“I appreciate everyone giving me some space. I just needed some time.”

Edwin turned and pinned him with his gaze. “None of us can begin to fathom what this has been like for you. What I do know is that we are incredibly grateful to see that your life was not lost, only interrupted. Your comrades would do anything to ease your transition, including giving you the time you needed to acclimate yourself to a world that moved on without you.”

Steve followed the older man into a sunlit room that had large windows overlooking a garden. A woman sat by the window with a book open in her lap as she watched a bird flutter around the feeder.

“Mrs. Stark, it is my pleasure to present General Steve Rogers,” Edwin said as he gestured to Steve. “

“Mrs. Stark, I’m pleased to meet you. You’re a brave woman,” Steve said as she rose gracefully from her seat and reached to shake his hand.

“Why do you say that?” He saw her guard go up at that comment, which was not at all what he’d intended.

“Howard isn’t an easy person to be around. He’s a good man, but he’s also… intense. Only a woman who could see past that—and have the courage to love him despite it—could survive being his wife. I’m glad he found you.”

“And to think I believed Peggy all those years when she said you didn’t know how to speak to a woman.” She turned to the butler, who was waiting patiently. “Edwin, would you please bring General Rogers some refreshments.” Looking to Steve, she asked him, “Do you prefer tea or coffee?”

“Peggy tried her best to convert me to tea, but I admit I still prefer coffee.” Steve wasn’t about to tell her the only reason he wasn’t stammering like a school boy was the fact he saw her as one of his mother’s generation as well as off limits due to her being married.

“A man after my own heart.” She smiled at him, then. “Howard mentioned you have a robust appetite. How does a plate of sandwiches sound?”

“I’m not here to be fussed over, Ma’am.” Of course, that was when his stomach betrayed him and grumbled loudly.

“It isn’t a fuss to ensure you don’t wilt from starvation. Edwin, if you’d please assemble one of Howard’s favorites, I believe that will fit the bill. We’ll take our coffee in the dining room.”

“Of course, ma’am. Would you enjoy a small salad?”

“That sounds perfect.” Her smile was warm as she looked at Edwin and that pleased Steve immensely. She must have noticed his scrutiny. “Edwin and his wife Anna are as much family as staff. I don’t know how we would have managed without them, especially when Tony was young. Come sit with me by the window. The birds never fail to be entertaining. If you watch closely, you might even spot hummingbirds feeding on the mock orange bushes to your right.”

“Is Tony here?” he asked as he perched nervously on the edge of one of the fancy chairs that faced the window.

Mrs. Stark sighed. “He’s at school, but has promised to be here later this evening, when classes are done. He doesn’t know you’re here. I thought it best not to tell him, in hopes he’ll make the trip.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tony is jealous of you and you need to know that. He’s so much like his father the two of them can’t… let’s just say it’s a difficult situation. I have already said too much but have no wish to leave you feeling ambushed.” She pasted her fake smile back on her face. “Will you be able to spend the weekend with us? Edwin already made up one of the guest rooms.”

She must have seen his hesitation. “General,” she started to say, placing a hand on his arm.

“Please, call me Steve.”

“Steve, you will call me Maria.” At his nod, she continued. “Edwin, his wife Anna, and Peggy have all told me how much Howard changed after your plane was lost. It broke something in him that he wasn’t able to find you. It is my fervent hope that having you here for a spell will mend that wound.”

“If you promise me you’ll tell me if I’m making things worse. I also want to go see my parents’ graves.”

“I appreciate your sensitivity. We have an accord. Edwin will be happy to drive you to the cemetery.” She raised her hand to stop his protest. “I’m confident in your navigational abilities, but it will be an emotional event, I’m certain. The Barnes family is buried in that same cemetery and I know the loss of your friend is quite fresh. It will ease my mind greatly to know that you have Edwin there with you.”

“Okay.”

“Your food is ready in the dining room.” Edwin announced softly from the doorway before retreating to another room in the house.

“Come, let’s eat.”

“Tell me about yourself, Maria. I’m sure part of what you do is direct Howard’s creative impulses to more practical proposals. Seeing as how he always liked woman with fire in them, I imagine you have your hands in all sorts of projects he’s only vaguely aware of.”

Maria laughed as she led the way. “All those years, I thought Peggy was exaggerating, and it turns out she was understating your good qualities. Yes, I manage my own charity and am on the board of several other organizations. Like you, I didn’t grow up with this kind of money. I’m determined to use my influence where I can.”

 ****

“After dinner, I promise, Obie.” Steve knew Howard’s voice anywhere and it filled him with emotions he didn’t want to deal with. He looked at Maria and saw her lips pinched together. She wasn’t happy. Perhaps because a person named Obie was here, too? He filed that thought away for later.

“That’s what you said this morning!” The sound of the voice was followed by a solid thump on Howard’s back, enough to make Steve wince.

“And it was a productive lunch meeting, you have to admit! Now come on, let’s go see this visitor Edwin told me was here.”

Steve stood up just as Howard and his companion came into the sitting area and watched as one of the men who had engineered the serum looked at him in shock.

“I’ll be jitterbugged!”

“It’s good to see you, Stark.” Steve said as he stepped forward and wrapped him up in a bear hug. “Duggan said you kept looking for me. Thank you for that,” he added softly before letting the man go.

“Still failed to find you. It will stick in my craw until my dying day that they found you two hundred miles from where I was looking.”

“I didn’t make it easy for you.”

“No coordinates! How bloody hard it is to give coordinates?”

Steve shrugged. “The instrument panel was damaged and I fought her the whole way down. The important thing is the bombs didn’t reach their targets.”

Stane cleared his throat, clearly wanting their attention. Interesting.

Howard put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, I want you to meet my dear friend and business partner, Obadiah Stane. Obie, meet Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Stane,” Steve said as they shook hands. “Which one of you do I have to blame for the lack of flying cars?”

Stane threw his head back and laughed heartily. “He’s still working on it, believe it or not.”

“Gentlemen, Mrs. Stark, your dinner is ready and waiting for you in the dining room,” Edwin said from the doorway.

“Come on, Steve. I remember your appetite. Just wait until you taste Edwin’s cooking. What are we having tonight, anyway?”

“Stuffed chicken valentino over pasta.”

Howard frowned. “Why are we slumming it with chicken when Steve is here?”

Maria cleared her throat softly. “For one thing, it’s one of Tony’s favorites. For another, I thought familiar food might be something Steve would appreciate.”

“I appreciate anything that isn’t K-rations or Spam, to be honest,” Steve said, trying to diffuse the growing tension. “I have no idea what’s in that dish besides chicken, but it smells fantastic.”

“Edwin just likes to coddle the kid,” Obie muttered as he followed behind them all. Steve figured he wasn’t supposed to hear that comment, but it got his hackles up. What was wrong with making the youngest Stark feel loved and welcome in his own home?

 ****

“What does Stark Industries produce?” Steve asked, feigning ignorance in an attempt to keep the conversation going. The food, while delicious, was sitting like a rock in his stomach as he tried to figure out how to navigate the numerous landmines he kept uncovering.

“Weapons, primarily. Howard’s genius during your war helped save the world, and now, we’re keeping this great country safe.” Obie bragged, clearly thrilled to have a new, captive audience.

“The war’s over.”

“No, it shifted. It’s called the cold war and the only thing keeping those dang Soviets in line is the might of our military, powered by SI’s weapons. We’re the single biggest weapons designer for our men and women in uniform.”

“So how do you two divide up inventing duties?”

“Me? Invent?” Obie laughed. “Howard’s the genius in the lab, I’m the genius in the boardroom.”

“It’s true,” Howard said, beaming at his friend. “With this man as my partner, Stark Industries is poised to usher in a whole new era of peace keeping. With any luck, Tony will never have to see the horrors we did.”

“Is Tony interested in the family business?”

“He’s a healthy young man, living life to the fullest.” Howard waggled an eyebrow at Steve, clearly implying more than he was saying. “Obie and I will see to it that it’s in great shape for him to take over when he’s done playing around.”

“Steve has a point, though. Maybe it’s time to take him in a firmer hand, make him do more in the research labs,” Obie suggested

“I thought he was focused on his education.”

Howard brushed off Steve’s comment. “Boy’s a genius. He doesn’t need that school as much as they need him. You have a point, Obie, maybe it’s time…”

“I’m here! It’s time to eat!” a young man announced as he breezed into the room wearing a bright tie-dye shirt and blue jeans. He had sunglasses perched on top of his head. “Mom, you look lovely, as always.”

Tony’s eyes fell next on Steve. “The prodigal son returns,” he said, indifference in his tone. “Just so you know? In the future? That’s my seat.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you for telling me.” Steve stood up and offered his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Tony, but you knew that.” He glanced at the plates as he reluctantly shook hands. “Did you and your super serum leave me any food? Edwin’s stuffed chicken valentino happens to be my favorite dish.”

“Tony!” Howard said sharply just as Edwin appeared with a plate.

“Anthony, I kept some back just for you. I’ve begun to think the best way to convince you to visit is start preparing this dish.”

“You figured out my ploy, you devious man,” Tony said with genuine fondness as he plopped into the seat next to Steve and beamed up at Edwin as the butler placed the plate of food in front of him. “So, what’s the topic of argument tonight?”

“They were telling me what Stark Industries does,” Steve said, trying to pretend he didn’t see the significant looks the Howard and Maria were giving each other. He decided to pretend that Dugan had told him nothing about Tony. Maybe the subject of school could fill a few minutes. “What grade are you in?”

“Second year of college, actually. I’m studying robotics.”

“It’s a dead-end pursuit, I’m afraid,” Obie observed.

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said. “I’m no businessman, naturally, but couldn't they be used to do boring and repetitive jobs and free people up to do more interesting things?”

“You’d think,” Tony said, between mouthfuls.

Steve heard him mutter “Here we go,” under his breath before Howard said,” Robots have no future.”

“Why not? Since I know nothing, explain it to me like I’m a person who knows nothing about it.” Steve let his face slide into the bland expression he’d perfected on the USO tour.

“You’ll crash the economy.” Howard said, then shrugged as if it were obvious. “Thousands of people will lose their jobs when they get replaced by machines.”

“It would be unethical! Add to that the fact that S.I. is in the business of making money and our single biggest buyer is the US military.” Obie cut in. “That means we need to keep the business’s focus on weapons, not robots to do silly little jobs like vacuum your bedroom floor.”

That got Steve’s dander up. The man seemed to be deliberately provoking Tony. “It seems to me there are lots of military uses for robots, too. Maybe you never finished that flying car, but what about a flying spy? You could gather intelligence without putting your men at risk. Maybe even deliver aid behind enemy lines to fellows who are pinned down and running low on supplies.”

“Women serve, too, these days,” Tony added, buttering another slice of bread before shoving half the slice in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Maria blanch.

Howard countered, “Not on the front lines.”

“Peggy did. She would have been deployed with us Howlers a lot more if Colonel Philips hadn’t been so stubborn about it. Besides, from what I’ve been reading, wars are changing so there aren’t clear cut front lines any more. It seems to me that young men like Tony here should be given a chance to develop their ideas. Who knows what great breakthrough he’ll come up with.”

Tony’s shoulders lost some of their tension at Steve’s comment. “I’m working on building a machine that passes the Turing test.”

“That would be something to see. How soon do you think you’ll have it ready?”

Tony looked him in the eye and Steve could see the conflict he was trying so desperately to hide. Fear won over his need for approval. “That’s classified.”

“I respect a man who can keep secrets,” Steve said evenly as he gave Tony the slightest smile and nod. Still, it was best not to show his allegiance too plainly. Obie’s entire manner set him on edge and he didn’t want to make him an enemy outright. “It seems to me that with Obie keeping the business focused on sustained growth and profitability, you’ll have a few years before you have to give that up and start working on projects Howard gives you.” As he spoke, he stepped firmly on Tony’s foot, hoping the young genius was smart enough play along.

“I’ve promised to do just that once I’ve got my engineering degree from M.I.T. My graduate work can be done in a partnership with S.I. and whatever school recognizes my talents.”

“We’ve always recognized your potential, Tony.” Maria finally spoke up, looking at her son with clear pride.

“It won’t matter one whit if he doesn’t use it properly, Maria,” Howard countered.

“With all of you guiding him, I’m quite confident his future is secure. Let him be a reckless teenager just a bit longer, if only to make up for the years I didn’t get to be one.” Steve gave them his best Captain America smile. “I feel properly stuffed, but my nose is telling me Mr. Jarvis has something delicious baking in the oven for dessert.”

“I peeked in the oven on my way in.” Tony said, having shown no reaction to Steve’s hidden gesture. “I hope you like apple turnovers.”

“I do. If you let me have one, how about you and I take my shield into the woods I see past the gardens and maybe you can explain the physics of some of the tricks I’ve learned to do by trial and error. With your help, maybe I can learn to do even more with it.”

“You’re on.”

Steve made sure Tony didn’t see the wink he gave his father, though Obie certainly did. Let them think he was patronizing Tony all they wanted. Someone needed to give the kid the attention he deserved.

 

****

Steve followed Tony into the woods behind the manor, wondering how best to break through Tony’s many defenses.

“Here?” the teenager asked, feigning indifference.

“This will work.” Taking his shield off his arm, he looked around once, verifying they were out of view of the windows though he could see the lines of the house.

“What do you need me to explain?”

“This.” Steve flung the shield so it bounced off three trees in sequence before returning to him. He plucked it out of the air and waited.

“That’s not possible.” Intrigued, Tony looked more carefully at each tree. Only a light mark on each tree indicated where it had been struck. “Do it again.”

For the next several minutes, Tony barked orders and Steve obeyed. As near as he could tell, the lad was breaking down the first throw and trying to figure out how the elements fit together. Tony had him strike a single tree, then two, first at an angle, then straight on. He asked Steve to spin the shield as he threw it or minimize the spin. Finally, he looked Steve up and down once and nodded himself. “Wait here.”

Steve waited, leaning against a tree with the shield leaning on his leg. Apparently, the best way to get on Tony’s good side was to ask him to solve a puzzle and keep his mouth shut. It didn’t address the problems brewing inside the house, but it was a start. He wished Bucky were here. Bucky would sling his arm around Tony’s shoulders, and with a few nonchalant questions, get the kid talking. Steve never had that skill.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The last time he’d been in the woods, he’d been fighting Nazis. Bucky was at his side, usually up in a tree somewhere as he cleared the way.

The sound of footsteps pulled him back to the present.

“Here. Try throwing this like the first throw you showed me.” Tony handed him unpainted replica of his shield. Even the weight was the same.

“What’s it made of?”

“Steel.”

Steve threw it and it ricocheted off the first tree, wobbled, and landed in the dead leaf matter nearby.

“Well, at least that establishes that you didn’t actually break all the laws of physics.”

“It doesn’t explain how mine works.”

“No, but it proves the difference is due to vibranium.”

“What’s wrong with Howard?”

“How long do you have?” Tony made a point of not looking at him. “Throw both shields, one after the other, at that tree, with the intention of making it come right back to you.”

Steve obeyed. “I don’t trust Mr. Stane.”

“So, you’re more than just muscles. Good to know.” Tony handed him the steel shield after Steve caught his and leaned it against his leg.

Steve threw the steel shield and it veered off at an odd angle.

“No good. That was an inch lower than the first one. Make sure you hit the same spot both times.”

“If I can’t?”

“We’ll put you back on ice so no one finds out you have lousy aim.” Tony tipped his head back, pretending to study the tree tops. “I suppose I can’t say he needs to get laid. I know of at least one mistress, so even if Mom’s still putting out….”

“He was always a womanizer, but he took care of the people he loved. The man I knew would have treated you both better than what I’m seeing.”

“That was before he lost you.” Tony used a rock to mark two trees that were situated so that a double hit could send the shield back to Steve. “Hit both and make it come back to you.”

“Putting the plane down was my choice, not his.”

“You still don’t get it. He didn’t find you. He _failed_ to find you. He wasn’t used to failure. Now it’s all he knows. Obie lets him pretend he’s a success at something.”

Steve put his arm on Tony’s shoulder and turned him so he was looking the kid in the eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A failed search for you was just the preview. Opening night was a failed marriage, with a failed kid for the grand finale.”

“Tony! You are not a failure. I can already tell you’re smarter than he is, and given his genius, that saying something. Maybe he’s threatened by that… I don’t know. But the Howard I knew would be damn proud to call you his son. Your mother certainly is, and rightly so.” Steve stepped away, retrieving the steel shield. “I’ve seen Obadiah Stane’s type before. I don’t know his agenda yet, but I don’t trust him. And I’m going to do everything I can to find out. I’ll stick arounda few days, make some provocative comments, see where it leads. If you overhear me throwing you under the bus, it’s not how I regard you, do please keep it in mind, though you should react as if we haven’t had this conversation.”

“I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who values Master Stark” Edwin said as he carried a tray towards them.

The man acted like delivering a pitcher of lemonade into the woods on a spring evening was an everyday occurrence. Then again, since this was Stark Manor, maybe it was.

“Didn’t hear you coming,” Steve confessed, having no way to hide the way he had startled.

“I served in the British Armed Forces as an aide to a general. I should hope I didn’t forget all of my wartime skills.”

“He was dishonorably discharged for what he did to save his Jewish wife, Ana, from the Nazis,” Tony added, helping himself to a glass.

“Sometimes, doing the right thing means you have to break a few rules,” Steve said, looking at Edwin with an expression he hoped conveyed the depth of his respect for the man.

“Howard intervened, saved me from a court martial, and secured Ana’s safe exit from Europe.”

“That’s the Howard I remember.”

“If I may, I would share my perspective with you both.”

Steve nodded, eager to hear what Edwin had to say.

“As Master Stark observed, he does indeed fear failure. Mr. Stane burnishes his ego while guiding him towards the most profitable projects, then frames those profits as successes.” Edwin turned his attention to the younger Stark and added, “I believe he truly loves you and your mother but doesn’t know how to show it. Instead, he pushes you harder so you don’t make the same mistakes he did”

“Like he’d even be around to see them.”

“His loss,” Steve replied. “Keep those biting comments coming and play up the rebellious teenager angle. Lash out a bit at me, too, while you’re at it. I’m the interloper here. May as well make it clear you’re playing nice for your mom’s sake, but only up to a point.”

“We cannot have a Stark without Snark,” Edwin added dryly.

“So, it’s time for me to stomp back to the house now that I’ve indulged your stupid attempt to try to win my trust?” Tony flashed them a genuine smile. “I can do that.” He called over his shoulder as he headed towards the house. “Don’t let Howard near your shield. You might not get it back.”

 


	5. Bucky

Steve ran his fingers over the worn lettering in the simple granite headstone. _James Buchanan Barnes, March 10, 1917—March 4, 1945._ There were no other inscriptions, not that any headstone could properly convey who Bucky had been. Nothing here noted the grey blue of his eyes and how they filled with silent laughter as Steve ranted about some injustice he had no hope of fixing. No words could capture the sound of his voice as he gave a pep talk to anyone who needed it. His steadfast determination to do his duty, no matter what it cost him, was likewise represented by a simple horizontal line between two dates.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I let you down when you needed me most. I can only hope you forgive me. You deserved better.” Steve sat down then and folded his legs as he wiped the tears from his cheeks and looked at the grey granite. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by letting me give you a hug.”

The female voice startled him. He’d gotten so wrapped up in his head that he hadn’t heard her approach. Steve scrambled to his feet as he turned and looked at the middle-aged woman who had tipped her head back to look at him. He knew those eyes, even if the face had aged almost beyond recognition.

“Come here, you big idiot,” Rebecca said as she threw down her purse and opened her arms. “I’ve waited a long time for one of my big brothers to come home.”

 

****

Steve sank into the back seat of the car and idly fingered the shield leaning against his legs while he waited for Howard to get in. The last few days had been exhausting and he was looking forward to getting back to the Dugan household. He’d fully intended to ride his bike back to the city, but Howard had offered him a ride as he and Maria were heading that way before catching a flight to California for a mini vacation. It had been a last-minute decision on Howard’s part, perhaps motivated by the hints Maria had let slip that she knew about his latest paramour. And super serum or not, riding a motorcycle in the pouring rain was an experience he preferred to confine to his war years. Howard had the room in his garage for his motorcycle, and it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to catch a train in a few days to come back and retrieve it. Plus, it would give him another excuse to be at the Stark residence and poke more at the Obadiah Stane problem.

A few miles down the road, a motorcycle appeared from seemingly nowhere. Howard swerved, and the car crashed into a tree. The windshield wipers kept going, the sound eerie in the otherwise quiet night. Steve sat there for a moment, stunned at how fast it had happened. The seat belts had certainly done their job and kept them from being thrown through the windshield. He was glad he’d listened to Howard’s lecture about using them.

“Everyone okay?” Steve asked as he got out and looked for the rider. Were they hurt? Pain lanced through him as a fist struck him from the back. Without thinking, Steve pivoted and began to fight back. “My shield!” he called to Howard as he ducked and dodged the blows as best he could. “This guy’s enhanced!”

“He’s hurt,” Maria snapped as she crawled over the seat into the back and passed Steve’s shield into his waiting fingers as he reached his hand behind his back while holding off his attacker as best he could.

“Get him away from the car, head back towards the house.” Steve ordered. Shield in hand, he shifted into the offensive. His opponent was strong, and when Steve blocked a fist, it clanged with a metallic sound as it made contact with the shield. “I think this guy’s got a metal arm!”

As they fought, Steve got the feeling he was a secondary objective. It was hard to see in the driving rain, but it seemed that the man kept trying to reach Howard and was more interested in that than in killing Steve. His opponent swiped his long dark hair away from his face, giving Steve a glimpse of his profile. “Bucky?”

Steve stood stunned for a moment before taking a metal fist to the gut. He doubled over, using his shield to block additional blows as he tried to catch his breath, tried to reconcile the fists pounding him with the face he’d just seen. How was this possible?

“Bucky! You need to stop. I’m your friend. We’re all your friends!”

Their fight settled into a brutal dance. Steve continued to try to reason with his best friend while Bucky ignored his words. How could Bucky be alive? What had been done to turn him into this emotionless killer? He knew he had to compartmentalize, but it was so hard with Bucky’s face only inches from his own.

The former boxer maneuvered on light feet as he pulled out a knife and glanced towards Howard.

“Get down!” Steve screamed to the Starks as he tackled his best friend. “He’s likely to throw a knife at you.” The pair wrestled, Bucky using his knife and metal arm to bludgeon Steve’s face and stab him in the back. Steve screamed, rolling the pair over on the wet pavement as he tried to dislodge Bucky’s hand from the knife. Bucky let go, but the blade was deep in his lung, twisting as they rolled. He wasn’t going to make it out of this one.

There was a sickening thwack, and Bucky’s body fell onto his, limp. Steve pushed him off, fingers searching for a pulse in his throat, then pulled himself to his knees. Maria stood over them, tire jack in hand. “Remind me not to piss you off,” he wheezed, holding Bucky down by both shoulders. “Get the knife out of me. The serum will stop the bleeding. Gotta get outta sight.” It was so hard to breathe.

“Do you want a warning?” Maria asked.

He shook his head, unable to hold back the scream as the blade pulled free. “Put it in your purse.”

With sheer willpower, he pulled himself to his feet, waving Maria away when she moved to help. “Stay with Howard. Gotta hide the bike. This was meant to kill you. Anyone asks? Deer. Jumped in front of you. You two were only ones in the car. Have Edwin come get you…. Pick us up - back the way we came. About a mile…. Should be safe.”

“Steve.. You’re in no shape to do anything!”

He shook his head. “I’ve been through worse. Just need to get the bike out of sight. If he moves….” Steve looked at Bucky’s supine form. “Stay away from him. Worst case scenario, he runs.”

It took everything he had to roll the bike to the edge of the road, then carry it into the undergrowth. He put the keys in his pocket and staggered back to where Bucky was still lying unconscious. Breathing with a punctured lung was on his top ten list of injuries he hated. Bucky used to tease him for trying to put every possible injury on that list. Even slight movements hurt. Bending over to hoist Bucky over his shoulder sent fire shooting down every nerve ending in his back and radiating into his legs. He had to get out of sight before anyone else showed up.

About a quarter mile into his trek to the Stark mansion, he stopped and let Bucky slide to the ground. Steve dropped to his knees and allowed himself a long moment to look at his best friend’s face. His survival didn’t seem possible, but after fighting him, it was clear he was enhanced, too. Look back to the days after Azzano, it occurred to him that maybe Bucky’s torture had involved a form of the serum.

He didn’t know what to think or feel. His best friend hadn’t recognized him, had tried to kill them, had a metal arm, and had been given the serum. It didn’t make sense. But right now, getting back to Stark Manor was his first priority. He methodically striped Bucky out of his tactical gear, discovering a frightening number of weapons in the process. Unsure if any of the items could have a tracker of some sort, Steve wrapped the weapons in the dark clothing and shoved the whole mess under a bush. He put his shield back over his arm, got shakily to his feet, and hoisted Bucky’s naked body over his shoulder once more. It was going to be a long, miserable walk back to the house. He’d intended to wait, but there was no telling how long it would be before a passerby happened upon the accident. The longer he waited, the more likely he’d have an awake passenger. It was better to get back to the house.

 

****

 

“Edwin!” Steve yelled, pounding on the front door as the rain chilled him to his bones. By some miracle, Bucky was still unconscious, but Steve knew his luck wasn’t going to last.

“What on earth…” Edwin said as he opened the door.

“I need a place to lock up an enhanced soldier. Then you need to go get the Starks.”

“This way.” Edwin said, leading him to the stairs that headed to the basement. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Collapsed lung, some broken ribs. Broken nose I already set. I’ll live.”

“Howard and Maria?”

“Unconscious and okay, respectively. She saved my life back there.”

“I’ll fetch them shortly. Here,” Edwin led Steve to what looked like an old-fashioned jail cell, the black metal bars reached from the concrete floor to the ceiling. “Will this suffice?”

“It’s a start. I need a loaded gun, just in case he breaks through. Do you have a blanket?”

“I’ll get one.”

As gently as he could, Steve laid Bucky down and straightened his limbs so he was lying on his back against the concrete block wall. He ran his fingers along the jawline he’d drawn so many times. Bucky was thin, like he’d been living rough. His ribs were too visible, and Steve could see the developing bruises from their recent fight lining his torso. The metal arm was met by an angry, inflamed flesh at the shoulder. Time stood still while he waited for Edwin to return.

“Step outside and I’ll lock it,” the butler said softly from near the cell opening.

“Did you bring the blanket?” Steve asked, holding his hand out behind him, unable to turn away for even a second. He immediately spread it over Bucky, tucking in in around and under him as best he could, before stepping out and allowing Edwin to turn the key in the crude lock.

“I’d like you to meet my best friend, Bucky Barnes,” Steve whispered, nodding slightly towards where Bucky lay. “I watched him fall to his death.”

“You’ve had quite a shock.” Edwin said, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sit down and I’ll fetch another blanket for you.” He passed Steve a handgun. “I hope you don’t need to use it.”

“Me, too.” He leaned his shield against his legs. “Go get them. If the police are there, I told Maria to blame a deer.”

“Understood.”

 

****

 

Steve found a stool and dragged it closer to the cell. The blanket Edwin and given him was hanging loosely around his shoulders. Bucky didn’t move once, safe for the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket.

“We should disarm him.”

Steve startled as Tony came up behind him. “You shouldn’t be down here.”

“Edwin told me there was an attack on his way out, and that we had a ghost for a guest.”

“I watched him fall from the train… I was trying to reach him and couldn’t get to him in time. He’s my best friend.”

“Right now, we need to focus on disarming him.”

“You want to take his arm off?”

“Says the man who stripped him naked.”

“Can you do it without hurting him? And if he even starts to wake up, will you promise to get away?” He couldn’t draw a deep breath and felt himself resorting to a shallow pant.

“Yes, to both. I want to see what it’s made of, and more importantly for the moment, make him less of a threat.”

Steve stood up carefully and laid the gun on the stool.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Being stabbed tends to do that.”

“You’re also having trouble breathing.”

“Collapsed lung. It can wait.” Steve limped slowly towards the cell. “Get your tools.”

 

****

 

“Tony, get out of there!” Howard snapped as he came downstairs, Edwin and Maria right behind him.”

“In a minute. I’ve almost got it.” Tony muttered, his entire hand inside Bucky’s upper arm. Steve was sitting on the floor with Bucky’s torso in his lap, holding his fingers against Bucky’s carotid arteries. At the first sign of a struggle, Steve could render him unconscious.

“There!” With a click and a grinding sound, the arm detached just below the shoulder and clattered to the floor. Tony picked it up and stood up. “This thing’s heavy. Must be doing a number on his musculoskeletal system.” He tossed it to Howard. “We can do better.”

Steve slid out from under his friend and laid him once more on the floor. “Can we get him some ice for his head?”

Edwin closed the cell door behind him and gestured for Steve to return to the stool. “Once we’ve tended to your wounds.” There was an industrial scale first aid kit on the floor nearby.

Steve nodded, then looked at Maria. “You did an amazing job out there. Are you okay?”

She nodded, her lips thin from where they were pressed together. “Is that really Sergeant Barnes?”

“Bucky didn’t have any brothers. When we were fighting, his eyes were blank. He didn’t know me.” Steve winced as Edwin tugged at his shirt, then waved a hand giving him permission to just cut it off. “Howard, why is there a jail cell in your basement?”

“I don’t know,” Howard said looking at Steve. “It came with the house.”

“Of course it did.”

“It came in handy when Tony was a toddler, though. “

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s really no different than a playpen. I’d give him safe things to play with there while I did my work out here. Remember the bubble battle?” he asked turning to Tony.

“I still say I won. Seriously, what is going on? We’ve got a naked, one armed guy in my childhood playroom, a thawed out super soldier bleeding all over the floor, and an imaginary deer getting the blame for all of it? I also heard a rumor that Mom walloped him with a tire jack? Should I invite Anna down and ask her to bring popcorn before round two?”

“Tony!” Maria said with a tone that betrayed her fondness.

“She’s the heroine of the day,” Howard agreed.

Steve turned his head and looked at his old friend. “You can thank her by treating her better from here on out, Howard. Bucky was sent to kill you tonight. Make this a fresh start.”

“I will,” he said, then turned to Maria. “I promise.”

“Any idea why someone wants you dead?” Tony asked. “Beyond the usual reasons?”

Howard sighed and pointed to a thick silver case sitting at the bottom of the stairs. “The contents of that case. Someone at SHIELD must be a double agent.”

“I’m almost done stitching you up, Steve. Once that’s done, I’ll vent the air from your chest and your lung will re-inflate.”

Steve winced and kept panting through the pain. “You do this a lot?”

“I’ve had the misfortune of dealing the aftermath of Mr. Stark and Ms. Sousa’s adventures over the years, hence the well-stocked kit.”

“I’m feeling left out. I never got invited on those adventures,” Tony said with a mock pout.

“They were before your time, Master Stark, though I never let down my guard. Please fetch some ice bags for your father and Sergeant Barnes. Steve, do you want ice as well?”

“No, just answers. What’s in the case, Howard?”

“I recreated Erskine’s serum.”

 


	6. Finding What Remains

Once Edwin was done patching him up, Steve dressed Bucky in sweatpants, socks, and a long-sleeved shirt before wrapping him up in the blanket. They’d all gone silent after Howard’s confession, aside from murmurs related to tending to their various injuries.

Finally, Steve put on a new shirt and faced the others. “What happened tonight stays between us and the Howlers.” He looked at Howard. “Not a word to Stane about any of this. That’s an order. You said Peggy didn’t know about this, and we’ll have words later about you going behind her back. Right now, the focus is on containment and information gathering.

“Edwin, Dugan told me that Morita and Jones both live in New York. I hate bringing them in on this, but it’s their call to make once they are up to speed. See if you can get them down here tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. We’re going to need to keep a round the clock watch on Bucky once he wakes up. He was really focused on getting to Howard, so you two are going to stay out of sight until we know more about what’s wrong with his head,” Steve ordered, looking at Howard and Maria. “Please grab some clothes for him. That floor has to be chilly.

“Howard, Tony, whatever you can figure out from that arm might be useful. Check it for tracking devices. I stripped his clothes and weapons for fear those had trackers in them, but his arm might have something, too. Be careful. I have no idea what you might find.” He looked between father and son. “You have complementary skill sets, especially with Tony’s interest in robotics. It would be swell if you could work together on it.

“Maria, whatever you can do to keep things looking normal around here, at least to outsiders, is going to be important. I have the feeling Stane likes to drop in often and monopolize the conversation. Anything you can do to run interference is going to be invaluable. We need to keep him away from the basement.” He looked at the group. “Questions?”

Tony spoke up. “The playpen doesn’t have a toilet.”

“See if you can find a bucket to put in there and a lightweight board to cover it. It won’t be any worse than what we had growing up.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Right.” He made it to the stairs, then called over his shoulder, “I’m not in charge of emptying it!”

Steve turned his attention back to Maria. “The adrenaline crash is going to hit you soon and it’s never good to be alone for it. Would you be amenable to Anna keeping you company until I can convince Howard to head to bed?”

She nodded, hugging herself as she did so.

****

Steve took the first watch, sitting on the stool as he watched Bucky sleep. There was no way of knowing when, or if, he’d wake up. He didn’t blame Maria. Her actions had saved all their lives, and the man Bucky had been would never have wanted to hurt his friends. But to think he might never wake up…it was more than Steve could bear. “I can’t lose you again.” His voice was hoarse, even to his own ears.

Minutes or hours passed as he sat there.

“…good to see him again, even under terrible circumstances.” Steve heard Gabe’s voice as he came down the stairs “When are you going to explain what’s going…oh.” Gabe stopped beside Steve. “Is that Barnes?”

Steve didn’t look away from Bucky, just shrugged one shoulder. “Looks like him, but he didn’t know me. His eyes were…. dead.”

“C’mere” Gabe said, pulling him into a bear hug. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Steve hugged him back. “Me either. So many lost years…”

Gabe finally let go. “It’s good to see you, Cap. We’ll figure this out. Howard said Morita’s on his way, too. Right now, go get some sleep so you can heal.”

“I’m fine.”

“He took a knife to the side and had a collapsed lung an hour ago.” Howard interrupted.

“The serum—”

Gabe cut him off. “The serum means you crash hard and need to sleep to heal fast. So, go crash, I’ll take the watch.” He looked at the gun. “I’ll aim for his legs, that should buy us time for you to come help.”

Steve rubbed his eyes, too tired to argue more. “He had a metal arm, which Tony got off of him. Not having it will keep him off balance.”

“I’d rather you took your bed upstairs, but if it helps, there is a couch down here you can use instead,” Howard said, wandering back into the equipment strewn area he called his workshop.

Steve shuffled after him. “I’m not going upstairs, just in case.”

“Suit yourself. I’m going up to bed, see how Maria’s holding up.”

“Good. I meant what I said, earlier, Howard. She’s an amazing woman and she loves you. You should treat her right.”

“I’m going to. Get some sleep. Flip the pillow over. I’m sure I drooled on this side.”

****

“He’s starting to wake up, Cap,” a soft voice said from nearby.

Steve opened his eyes and saw Morita standing over him. “Jim?” He sat up, wincing at the lingering pain in his side. “What time is it?”

“A little before five,” he said after checking his watch. “You still have a flair for the dramatic.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Steve admitted as he accepted Morita’s hug. “I’m sorry I—”

“Nope. No apologies. You needed some time. We all understand that.” He stepped back and held Steve’s face in his hands. “It’s like you didn’t age a day. I can’t imagine what a shock this has been.”

Steve nodded, unable to speak past the lump his throat.

“We’re still a team, and we’ve still got your back.”

“Sergeant Barnes?” they heard Gabe say.

A voice responded in another language.

“Is he speaking Russian?” Steve asked, dashing over to see what was happening. Bucky, dressed in the t-shirt and pants Steve has pulled on him before crashing on the sofa, was kneeling on the concrete floor, head bowed.

Gabe nodded. “He said, ‘I failed my mission. I accept my punishment.’”

“Bucky, you’re safe here. You’re not going to be punished!” Steve said with clenched teeth as he held onto the cell bars with his hands.

“Step back, Cap. Let me try,” Gabe ordered gently. When Steve obeyed, Gabe spoke in Russian with a tone that left no room for disobedience. Bucky answered in a short sentence then fell silent.

Gabe tried again and the two conversed, though in a somewhat lopsided exchange to Steve’s ears. After a time, Bucky looked up at Steve, his brow furrowed in confusion, then spoke to Gabe. After Gabe spoked again, Bucky nodded with seeming reluctance, and sat down, folding his legs in front of him. He watched the others speak in English.

“He thinks we’re new Hydra handlers sent to punish him for failing his mission.” Gabe turned to Steve who let out a cry of agony at that comment. “He has no memory of us, the war, it’s all gone. He doesn’t even know his name, just that he was called ‘soldier.’”

“What do we do?” Jim asked, asking the obvious.

“Feed him, try to earn his trust. Hope that his brain recovers.” Gabe sighed heavily and sat back down on the stool. “Howard needs to get us better chairs because this isn’t going to be fast or easy.”

“We can’t leave him locked up!”

“Steve, we also can’t let him out just yet. The Sergeant Barnes we all knew? He’d be the first one to say to keep him right where he is so he doesn’t hurt anyone. He’s safe here. Hydra’s probably going half mad trying to track him down. For all we know, he’s programmed to return to them at the first opportunity.”

Steve sank to his knees just outside the cell and looked at his friend. “Are you hungry?”

Bucky looked at him blankly.

“Prisoners don’t get to have preferences, Steve,” Gabe said tiredly. “Soldat, can you drink broth without vomiting?”

“Dah.” Bucky agreed, the single syllable almost too faint to hear.

“Broth?” Steve asked, standing up and looking at the others questioningly.

“He’s thin, so they haven’t been feeding him right. Plus, he took a blow to the head. We start with a mild diet: broth, bananas, rice, applesauce, tea, and toast. Once we know he can keep it down, we’ll add richer foods, as often as he wants, with as much as he wants. The bigger problem may be figuring out if he’s hungry or just eating to please us.”

Steve blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Morita said, serving as the voice of reason. “For now, I’ll go talk to Edwin about food and Howard about chairs. Then, we can discuss how we’re going to divide up guard duty for the next few days.”

****

As the afternoon bled into evening, the three men pretended to play cards at the card table Howard had dragged out of a closet rather than watch Bucky in his cell. The fact was, they were watching him as much as they were begin watched, and it was clear the prisoner knew it. He kept his eyes down, offered only yes or no (in Russian) in answer to direct questions, and sat frightfully still for hours on end.

“For the record? This arm is an insult to robotics,” Tony growled from the nearby workshop.

“Why is that, exactly?” Gabe asked smoothly, dealing another round. It unsettled Steve, how easily Gabe had settled into a role as their leader, but he’d missed the years when both men had grown further into their skill sets. Gabe was now a university professor, and due back on campus Monday morning. Steve figured his years running a classroom made him well suited to managing all of them.

“It’s twice a heavy as it needs to be, the wiring was done by blind idiots with no sense of aesthetics, and it’s so mucked up it’s as likely as not to give him a random jolt.”

Steve shuddered. “Hydra likely intended that.”

“We’re fixing it.” Howard added. “The outside is a vibranium alloy, and I’ll leave that part alone. But the inside? It’s getting redone from scratch.”

“Can you two do that without killing each other?” Steve asked.

The two Starks paused and looked at each other with matching gestures. It was like watching one man in a mirror, which made Steve smile to himself. The pair nodded.

“Probably,” Tony added. “Unless he criticizes my soldering.”

“You used to have a sloppy technique. I knew you could do better.”

Bucky spoke briefly, and Steve noticed him cowering immediately after. “Gabe?”

“He asked for a pencil and paper.”

“Of course, you can have writing materials!” Howard grabbed a tablet and mechanical pencil.

“Wait!” Steve jumped up. “He could throw it at you. Stay at a safe distance and I’ll hand it to him.”

“You really think he’s going to kill me with a pencil?”

“I’m thinking we don’t understand what we’re dealing with.” Steve knelt and slid the pencil and tablet between the bars. “These are yours now, Bucky. You don’t have to give them back.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He barely moved. When he did, it was with an economy of someone well trained for efficiency. He took the pencil, wrote quickly, then tore the top page off. Steve could tell his hand was shaking slightly as he handed the sheet through the bars and resumed his waiting, head bowed.

“Gabe?”

Standing up, Gabe came over and read the paper. “It’s a list of random words with directions to read it, then question him.”

Jim joined them near the cell. “What can it hurt?”

“Just a second. I’ll record this so we can go over it later,” Howard offered.

Once the equipment was in place, Gabe read the list of seemingly random words. Bucky rose gracefully to his feet and spoke a short phrase that made Gabe drop the paper and step back in horror.

“He says he’s ’Ready to comply.’”


	7. Betrayal

Two hours later, Bucky was lying obediently on the floor, sound asleep. He was the only one who seemed at peace. Steve was pacing angrily around the basement, temper barely restrained. The soldier, ever obedient, had given his new handlers directions on how to manage him, then given a full report on his failed mission. He’d even asked about a chair to fix him so he stopped being distracted by false memories. Howard and Jim had both thrown up in a nearby trashcan, and Tony was curled up on the couch looking like he was ready to join them. Maria, having grown tired of being out of the loop, had joined them soon after Bucky had begun to speak and was sitting on the stairs listening to each of them in turn.

“We need Peggy,” Steve finally said. “SHIELD is full of Hydra operatives. We have to let her know.”

“How about I call her and invite her to visit you here, Steve? If anyone is listening, it will sound innocent enough.” Maria suggested.

“Ms. Stark, Mr. Stark,” Edwin said from the top of the stairs. “I apologize for the interruption, but Mr. Stane is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Edwin,” Maria said as she stood up. She nodded once to the Howling Commandos. “Please arrange for some light refreshments in the sitting room. Howard will join us shortly.”

“Stay down here, keep him quiet,” Steve muttered under his breath to Gabe and Jim.

 

****

 

“Why am I just now hearing about this? You could have been killed!” Obadiah was ranting as he paced. Steve leaned on the doorjamb, watching. “The police were the ones to tell me about that dreadful accident. Do they have any leads about the guy on the motorcycle?”

In an instant, Steve was across the room, holding Stane against the wall with a hand on his throat. “We told the police it was a deer. Where did you hear about a motorcycle?”

Stane looked at Maria.

Steve pressed his thumb harder into the flesh. “No, you don’t get to blame her. Who are you working for?

Obie looks at Howard pleadingly. “Was he always like this? Short tempered and quick to accuse? We’re friends, Howard. We’ve been friends for decades. Why would you even think I had something to do with this?”

“Steve! What are you doing? I’ve known him for decades! Let him go,” Howard yelled.

Steve lifted Stane off his feet, not backing down. “You have some interesting associates, Mr. Stane. I’ve had Peggy do some deep digging, and you’ve had three SHIELD agents following your every move around the clock for the last week. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”

Obadiah looked pleadingly at Stark one last time. “I’m sorry, Howard.” He bit down hard, white foam coming out of the corner of his mouth.

Steve stepped back in disgust, allowing the body to fall to the floor. “Hydra.”

“Peggy told you that?” Maria asked, her voice surpassingly calm.

“No. That was all a bluff.” Steve turned to Maria. “I’m ready for her to make that visit, now.” He looked back at the body. “I need to borrow a shovel.”

Howard just sank mutely to the floor and curled up with his head bowed.

“Won’t people be suspicious about his disappearance?” Maria wanted to know.

“Peggy will help us lay a false trail later. For right now, with all those acres out back, it shouldn’t be too find a spot in need of fertilizer.” Steve paused after he hoisted Stane’s body over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Howard. I know a betrayal like this hurts.”

 

****

 

A half-hour later, Steve put the shovel back into the garden shed and slipped his boots off by the back door before heading into the main house. The lights were out on the main floor, so he was surprised to see Howard sitting at the table, alone with a bottle of liquor.

“Where’s Maria?”

“Upstairs. She hates it when I drink.” He wiped one eye with his thumb. “I thought he was my friend. I’ve known him for years. He was best man at my wedding, Steve.”

Steve pulled out a chair and sat down. “Half-truths are like half bricks: it’s easier to throw them farther. I suspect Stane was quite fond of you and did enjoy the time he spent with you. The fact that his loyalty to Hydra was more important to him doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all.” He slid the bottle out of reach. “I’m sorry he betrayed you like that. It’s gotta be making you question everything, but you have to fight that temptation.”

“You’re the last good thing I did.”

“That’s not true, Howard. You’re just too drunk to see things clearly.”

“I’m not drunk.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you. The person you need to be leaning on is Maria.”

Howard picked up his snifter. “I’m drinking, and she doesn’t approve.”

“Maybe because she’d rather you sought solace in her, not a bottle. She’s a strong, smart woman. We’d be dead if not for her quick thinking last night. Stop chasing skirts and start treating your wife like your partner. She loves you, and she has your best interests at heart.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I do. She hasn’t put up with your shenanigans this long because it’s fun. So, man up, swallow your pride, and go talk to her. Because honestly? I’m not able to carry you and Bucky both right now and Bucky needs me more.” Steve stood up. “If I find you drinking like this again, I’ll dump every last bottle you own down the drain.”

 

****

 

What’s going on? Howard won’t tell me anything…” Peggy said as she came down the stairs. Steve watched her take in the scene as he got to his feet. “Oh.”

“Hi, Peggy. Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Gabe said as he stood up and hugged her. “Hi, Daniel. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.”

Steve looked at the man with Peggy. “You were pinned down in Italy.”

Daniel nodded. “I hope this doesn’t make you regret saving my life.”

“Of course not.” He shook his head. “It’s good to see you made it home.”

“Steve, why don’t you take Peggy upstairs and give her the sitrep?” Morita suggested.

He looked at Daniel for permission.

“She’s still your friend, Steve, and I’d like to be your friend, too. There’s no need for ill will between us. After everything you sacrificed, I’m not going to sit on the sidelines if you need me.”

There was so much he could say to that, but he couldn’t find the words. He could only hope he’d have been as gracious if the situation were reversed. Steve just nodded and followed Peggy back upstairs.

She led him into the sitting room that held Howard’s well-stocked wet bar and poured them both a stiff drink while he sat down on the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. After a few minutes, he heard the clink of the glass being set on the coffee table and the sofa cushions shifting as she sat down beside him.

“Howard’s bar is going to be tested, tonight, I think,” she said, nudging him with her elbow as she leaned against him. “Drink up and tell me everything that happened, starting at the beginning.”

If she thought less of him for breaking down when he’d finished, she didn’t hint at it. Rather, she pulled his head into her lap and rubbed his back as he cried. “You’ve lost everything, more than once. Maybe this is the universe finally giving something back.”

“He doesn’t remember me. He looks right at me and there’s nothing but blankness in his eyes.”

“We have no way of knowing the horrors he endured, but the fact he gave Gabe his trigger words says that some part of the Sergeant Barnes we knew is in there and fighting back. He’ll never be the same, but he can reclaim his autonomy.”

“Bucky was never mindlessly obedient.”

“No one can withstand endless torture, Steve. It’s a testament to his strength that he’s even alive. Your loyalty to him, your love for him, is going to help bring him back. You were brothers in all but blood long before I met you. Rooting Hydra out of SHIELD is my job. Yours is to help your friend recover as much as he can.”

“How are you going to clean house? If Stane knew and was Howard’s friend for years, the rot goes deep.” Steve finally sat up, wiping his eyes and forcing himself to focus.

“I’m afraid it goes back to the beginning and the compromises that were forced upon us by the government. It was a program called Operation Paperclip, and you can remind us to tell you about it later. Don’t worry. I’ve got a few agents I can trust completely, and I’ve been grooming one of them to take over for me in a few years. If Nick is half as good as I think he has the potential to be, he’ll make sure we get everyone.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am. I think Sergeant Barnes might be helpful as well. He gave you his command codes. I’d like to talk to him and see if there are key words and phrases we can use to identify other Hydra agents hiding in plain sight.”

“Just don’t get in reach. Even without that metal arm, he’s dangerous. He nearly killed me.”

Peggy patted his knee and stood up. “You and Daniel are going to get along swimmingly with your overprotective habits.”

 

****

 

“Sergeant Barnes, do you know who I am?”

Steve watched warily as Peggy stood in front of the bars and addressed Bucky. Bucky slowly got to his feet and looked her over carefully. “Agent Carter, now Sousa. Co-founder and Director of SHIELD. Top five enemies of Hydra.” Bucky’s voice was free of intonation as he recited facts without any feeling behind them.

“That’s right.”

Bucky tilted his head. “You wore a red dress. Made me jealous.” That time, he spoke with a Brooklyn accent. It felt like a fist in Steve’s gut.

Unflinching, Peggy held his gaze. “Why were you jealous, Sergeant Barnes?”

“You saw the punk. And he had puppy eyes for you.” Bucky looked over Peggy’s shoulder at a memory. “Didn’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Steve protested softly. He needed Bucky at his side like a suffocating man needed oxygen.

Bucky’s gaze landed on him and his brow furrowed. “I thought you were smaller.”

Steve nearly choked. “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head as he crumpled to the floor.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted, lunching for the bars.

Peggy put a hand on his arm. “He didn’t hit his head on the way down.”

“He remembers,” Gabe said softly.

“Yup,” Morita confirmed. “Looks like remembering triggers a blackout.” He looked over at Steve. “It’s going to make his recovery brutal, but this shows that the man he was is still buried under the programming Hydra forced on him.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“We know that, Steve.” Peggy smoothed her skirt as she looked at Bucky, lying where he had fallen. “We also can’t keep him locked up here for much longer. If we want him to behave like the man he was, we can’t treat him like the tool Hydra deployed on a whim. He’ll benefit from familiar surroundings.”

Steve rubbed his neck with his hand. “I’d rather not go back to living in the tenements.”

“You can have the guest house,” Howard offered softly. “I never liked it since it’s not much more than a closet, but it does have hot water, indoor plumbing, and keeps the weather out.”

“We need to plan this carefully. Let’s go upstairs where it’s more comfortable,” Peggy said and headed towards the stairs.

“We can’t just leave him here alone.” The thought of Bucky waking up alone and frightened was more than he was willing to tolerate.

“I’ll stay with him.” Daniel offered. “He may stay down for hours, but you’re right, he shouldn’t be left alone. We’re better than Hydra.”

“Okay.” Steve picked up a padded armchair he’d discovered in Howard’s workshop and carried it over to where the others were assembled. “This is more comfortable than the stool.”

Daniel just looked from the chair to Steve and back again. “I might envy you those muscles if they hadn’t cost you so much.”

Steve shrugged. “I’d have been dead long before I was thirty without the serum.” He looked longingly over his shoulder before following the others upstairs.

 

****

 

They gathered in the dining room. Even Anna joined them since the coming discussion affected everyone living on the property. Peggy sat at one end, pen in hand as she started making a list. She tapped her immaculate fingernails, painted with red polish, on the table as she thought. “We have a two-pronged problem. The first, of course, is helping Sergeant Barnes return to full health and autonomy. We’ll come back to that in a few minutes. The second challenge is removing Hydra’s minions from SHIELD. We have to assume they weaseled their way into other branches of the government as well. It’s going to be impossible to simply fire the lot of them without burying ourselves in lawsuits from now until the end of time.”

“You need an event,” Steve said softly as he stared out the window at the gardens. He needed that image to remind himself where and when he was. “Something big enough to explain a shakeup.”

“We’re not letting you crash another plane,” Morita teased. “But you’re right that a larger distraction can be used in our favor. On the other hand, that sort of large-scale catastrophe isn’t something we want to plan. Why not keep it simple? You’ve got a spy agency’s resources, so gather the evidence and release it to the public. Go after the ones in charge, and quietly show the underlings why it’s best for them that they end their careers in public service. Put them on the FBI’s radar so they don’t pop up somewhere else.”

“How about a mix of the two?” Maria asked, speaking up at last. “Make an air-tight case that several key people are Hydra operatives, and let it culminate it in a big raid that gets a ton of press coverage. If you have enough trustworthy FBI agents handling it, the blacklist can be established while everyone’s focused on the ones in charge.”

Steve turned away from the window and leaned his back on the wall in time to see Peggy’s nod. Time had only increased her skills in leading and it warmed his heart to watch her in action.

“Okay, back to the first issue. I like the idea of using your guest house, Howard. We can’t keep him locked up in your basement and expect him to recover. This is going to take a long time, so we should consider the option of moving him to an institution, for your sake as much as his, Steve. No one person can be expected—”

“No. We’ll be fine.” He prepared for an argument.

“Stubborn as always,” Gabe muttered.

Steve hid his grin at the comment Gabe had surely known he’d hear. Even after all these years, this was still his team.

Peggy didn’t react visibly. “I had to try. But if we keep him here, there are conditions. Firstly, Steve, you leave the property every Saturday. We’ll use that time for counseling sessions and socialization. If we all take turns, we should be able to give Sergeant Barnes a reasonable variety of people to interact with as he recovers.

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Yes, you, are. Sitting on the curb across the street pouting won’t count. I’ll send you on field missions if I have to, but you need to interact with the world, too. Visit museums, go to lunch with Rebecca. Sit in Central Park and mock the tourists. It’s the only way you’ll have the reserves to draw on for the rest of the week. Make no mistake, Steve, this is going to be a brutal process for both of you. None of us can comprehend the horrors he must have endured, and as he regains his sense of self, he’s going to be angry. Rightfully so, but you’ll bear the brunt of it.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Howard broke in. “How do we go about deprogramming him?”

“At first, we don’t. That’s the safety net that will keep him from hurting anyone as his brain heals. As he starts to remember us, maybe he’ll be able to break through the programming on his own.

“It’s reasonable to assume he got some version of the serum from his captors. His wounds are healing too fast for any other explanation to fit,” Morita added.

Steve nodded, rubbing his forehead. “He’s as strong as I am.”

“How much do you want to bet it was Zola’s work in Azzano?”

Morita nodded, considering Gabe's’ idea. “It certainly fits. He moved so fast at times, almost kept up with Cap there. Liquor didn’t affect him much, either, though he tried to pretend it did.”

“We should have known,” Gabe whispered to himself.

“We need to focus on the present, not what might have been,” Peggy insisted.

Steve flinched, then went back to holding up the wall. “Easy for you to say.”

“We grieved for both of you for decades,” Peggy fired back. “Your pain is different, not greater.”

“She’s right,” Howard admitted.

Peggy smiled. “Of course she is. About time you realized it. Now, on to more practical matters. You were always at your best, Steve, when you had a mission to focus on. You’ve been floundering since we found you. I dare say that problem has been solved. For the next few days, you need to get him out of that cell and see how he acts. Use those codewords to debrief him as much as you can on past missions and other codes that he may have been given.”

“That’s not ethical,” Steve argued.

“The man he was would want to help us help him and do everything we could to protect innocent lives,” Peggy countered. “We’re on our own for how to best do that.”

“I still don’t like—”

“Steve, none of us like it,” Peggy snapped. She took a breath and softened her tone. “You know Barnes better than any of us. If he were able to tell you what he wanted you to do, what would he say?”

Steve bowed his head, unable to argue further. He knew Peggy was right.

 

****

 

Steve went back down to the basement while the others were talking strategy about removing Hydra from SHIELD. He didn’t feel he had anything to contribute on that front since he was still learning how this world worked. Besides, he couldn't stand being away from Bucky for very long.

 

Daniel was sitting quietly in the chair, watching Bucky sleep.

“He’s still out?”

“He hasn’t moved at all. I’ve counted his respirations, and the rate is in the normal range.” He looked sidewise at Steve. “How are you holding up?”

Steve thought a moment, then sat down on the stool beside Daniel. “I’m numb.”

“It’s normal. I remember when I first got back to the states, I kept expecting to wake up and find I was still sleeping in the mud in Italy. I felt like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life.”

“What made it better?”

Daniel smiled sadly. “Time, more than anything. I just kept going through the motions, preparing myself for when I’d wake up.” He looked down at his prosthetic leg. “Some days, I still wake up in the morning, disoriented to find myself safe at home. But I can shake it off in a few minutes.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” Steve whispered, more to himself than anyone.

“No one does. We all come home from the war different than the men we were before.”

“You still had free will.”

“Yes and no.” Daniel shifted in his chair. “Did anyone tell you about PTSD?”

Steve shook his head.

“It stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, what they used to call shell-shock. Some people, a lucky group, are able to come home and settle back into civilian life. Others, people like us, have a harder time of it. We hear a car backfire and duck because we’re back on the battlefield, smelling the carnage and wondering if the next bullet has our name on it. Or we wake screaming in the middle of the night from the nightmares that won’t let us rest. Rape survivors, people who survive other traumas like natural disasters or domestic abuse can have it too. Our bodies take over and our minds play along.”

“What’s the cure?” Steve tried to keep the hope from his voice.

“There isn’t a cure. But there are tools and treatments, things that help us cope.” Daniel finally looked away from Bucky and met Steve’s eyes. “Being able to talk about it with someone else who has it, who understands what it does to you? That helps more than anything.”

It took Steve a moment to understand what Daniel was saying. “Peggy?”

Daniel nodded. “Me, Peggy, the rest of the Howlers, Howard, Edwin, and Anna, too, though I don’t know as much about what they endured.”

“What else?” Steve tore his eyes away from Peggy’s husband and looked back at Bucky. “He’s not talking yet. What do I do?”

“Structure. Stability. I mean stability to the degree of eating the same thing every day for breakfast, at exactly the same time, sitting in the same chair and using the same plates and silverware. When it’s time to introduce change, swap sausage for bacon and leave the rest alone. When you can’t trust your own mind, you cling to the physical world to let you know where and when you are.”

“I can do that.”

“Develop a plan, because whatever schedule you set for him is one you’ll be living with. Put up calendars, clocks, and printed schedules. Time to eat, time to bathe, time to exercise, time to sleep, plan it all. And plan for the days it all goes to hell because he has a temper tantrum and fights you with everything he’s got.”

“Plan for the bad days. Got it.”

“No, those so-called bad days are the good days. Those are the days the obedient soldier is defying orders and reclaiming his humanity.”

Steve absorbed that. Tried to absorb that.

“Yeah, it’s going to get bad. It has to get bad before it gets better.” He ran his hand through his hair and turned to Steve. “You still up for this? It’s okay if you’re not. We’ll find a team to put together that can help take care of him.”

“He stays here. I won’t risk Hydra getting him again.” He sighed, admitting defeat, at least to himself. “Peggy’s making me take Saturdays off.”

“You might want to take Sundays, off, too.”

He let the idea float in his brain.

“I mean it, Steve. This is going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. You’re going to need time away from him so you are strong enough to hold him up. Lean on us while he leans on you.”

“I can’t let him down when he needs me the most.”

“Recognizing it’s too big a task for one person isn’t letting him down. Sometimes, you have to pull back to be of any use.”

Steve got up to pace. “You don’t understand. When I had _nothing_ , I had Bucky. I’d have been dead long before the war if he hadn’t kept me alive. I owe him everything.”

“Then consider he didn’t make those sacrifices for you to throw your own life away. When it gets bad, if you need to step back for a breather, it’s okay.”

He didn’t say anything to that. What could he say? He paced over to the cell. “While the rest of you get the guest house in order, I’m going to start working with him here.”

“Okay.”

“Get the tranquilizer ready. I’m going to see if I can wake him up and get him cleaned up.”

Daniel picked up the handgun. “This it?”

Steve glanced over and nodded. “Stark modified the ammo last night.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

Steve unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, bending over Bucky’s form while standing on his left side as he nudged him with his foot. “Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped open and he rolled to his knees, head bowed.

“Do you know where you are?”

Bucky answered in Russian.

“Speak English, please. Do you know where you are?”

“The asset doesn’t need to know. I am ready to comply.”

“Your name is Bucky.”

“The asset has no name, but the asset will comply.”

Steve sighed. “Are you hurt?”

“The asset is functional.”

“Do you need assistance standing up?”

“Nyet.” With a slight shudder, he repeated, “No, sir,” as he got to his feet.

“Does your shoulder need a waterproof cover in order to prevent damage or pain while you bathe?”

Again, Bucky shook his head, though Steve read terror in his stance. “We’re going to go upstairs. Let me know if you get dizzy or need to stop and rest.”

Daniel led the way, on Steve’s signal. When Steve nodded his permission, Bucky followed the veteran up the stairs with catlike grace and silent footsteps.

“We’re coming through, so don’t panic, anyone,” Daniel called as they made their way to the main floor then up the stairs to the second floor.

Outside the bathroom, Daniel leaned against the wall and waved Bucky to go in. It seemed to Steve that he curled in on himself even more than he had been. Was the thought of a shower really so terrifying? As he imagined the potential treatments that would produce that reaction, he was filled with rage. “Try to relax, Buck. This isn’t about pain or punishment.” He glanced at Daniel. “Can you see about getting him a change of clothes? I think we’re okay for now.”

Daniel nodded and pulled the bathroom door shut behind him.

“Do you want help taking your clothes off, Bucky?” he asked softly.

Bucky didn’t answer, just began to methodically strip. Even with one arm, he was efficient in his motions and stood at attention with a pile of dirty clothing at his feet.

“I’m going to turn the water on now. I want you to tell me if it’s too hot or too cold for you. Do you understand?”

“The asset accepts your choices.”

“Are you familiar with conditioner? I just learned about it recently.”

“No, sir.”

“Okay.” Steve sighed, then swore under his breath before he started to strip his own clothes off. Washing that long hair with one hand wasn’t going to be easy, anyway. He turned on the water, picking a temperature that felt good but not scalding and got in. “Get in with me, Bucky. Test the temperature with your hand. If it is acceptable, we’ll switch places and let you get your hair wet.”

Bucky obediently held his hand in the spray that made its way past Steve.

“The temperature controls are behind me. Why don’t you set it warmer if you want, or cooler if you prefer? I’m okay with whatever you choose.”

His words had the opposite effect as Bucky became even more wary, though he switched places with Steve. It was clear that he expected this to be a trap of sorts. “Leaving it as it is just fine, too. It’s your choice and there is no right or wrong answer here. Get your hair wet and then I’ll wash it for you.”

Obedient to a fault, Bucky stepped beneath the spray, watching Steve despite the water running over his face.

He picked up the shampoo. “Step forward just a bit and I’ll put some of this in your hair. It’s shampoo and a pretty nice one. This one smells a bit like lavender.” He started a pointless narrative, babbling about modern fragrances as he lathered Bucky’s hair and massaged his scalp. When had anyone touched Bucky with anything resembling kindness, he wondered, then decided he probably didn’t want to know.

“Okay, close your eyes and tip your head back a bit. I don’t want you to get any soap in your eyes. Even in 1985, it stings like a dickens.” His voice trailed off. Nothing he said made a difference. Still, he had to try. “I think we got it all. I have a towel here, so go ahead and dry your face off when I touch it to your forehead. Then we’ll add the conditioner. I’ve heard it makes it easy to comb long hair without hurting. Remember when you said you were taking me to the future? Here we are. The hair products are amazing.”

Bucky obediently dried his face and allowed Steve to apply the conditioner. The repeated the process of rinsing it out and drying his face. Finally, Steve stepped back and grabbed a washcloth. “I’m going to soap this up well and then you can start washing. I’ll do your back for you, and then I’m going to get out and let you finish up. Daniel should have some clean clothes ready for you. I bet you like soft clothing. I’m still not used to all these new fabrics, but I have to admit that sweatpants and sweatshirts are really comfortable. I like how they feel on my skin.”

Bucky, ever obedient, washed his face and handed the cloth back to Steve, turning his face into the spray as Steve ran the cloth gently over his back.

“Okay, I think you can take it from here. Don’t forget to wash behind your ears. Your ma would be very unhappy if you left any dirt there.” After he pulled the shower curtain closed, he pressed his hand to his mouth to silence the sobs that threatened to escape. Lord help him, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to get them both through this.


	8. Everything is Just Fine

 

After Bucky’s hair was dry and he was back in the cell, Steve went upstairs to collect himself.

“Having second thoughts?” Howard asked him as Steve stormed into the kitchen and filled a glass of water.

“I want to make Hydra pay for what they did to him.”

“We will. Peggy’s on the hunt. Edwin and the boys are getting the guest house ready. There’s only one bedroom. Is that going to be a problem?”

“We bunked before plenty of times to stay warm. It’s fine.”

 

****

It wasn’t fine. Things were so far from fine that Steve wasn’t sure fine was even visible from where he stood.

The first hint was when Bucky carefully surveyed the guesthouse and proceeded to curl up on the floor just outside the bedroom door.

“Bucky, no, you’re not sleeping on the floor,” he had said, gently taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

The second hint was when Bucky didn’t hesitate, just reached for the waistband of Steve’s pants.

“No!” Steve said, backing away, only to feel guilty for speaking so sharply as Bucky curled in on himself.

“The asset has displeased you,” he’d said in a low voice as he dropped to his knees at Steve’s feet. “The asset is here to serve.”

“Please get up, Buck.” Steve stepped around him and pulled back the covers before getting into the bed. He drew on all of his experience as Captain America to keep his voice soft and friendly. “We used to bunk together when I stayed over at your family’s apartment. We all bunked together in the war just to keep warm. Sharing a bed just means we both get to be comfortable here, that’s all. Come lie down. It’s late and we both need sleep.”

Steve waited until Bucky lay down, flat on his back and not at all relaxed. “There. We always used to curl up together. I’d listen to your heartbeat as I fell asleep.” Carefully, Steve stretched out against Bucky’s left side and lay his head on Bucky’s chest with his arm lying across Bucky’s torso. “Just like this. Do you think you can go to sleep like this?”

“The asset does not sleep. The asset will keep watch.”

“I’d rather you tried to sleep. Close your eyes and match your breaths to mine. Relax as much as you can. There is no punishment if you fail, but if you try to sleep, I’ll make us your favorite pancakes in the morning.”

Steve lay awake a long time, wondering if he’d ever find his way through this. He’d known Hydra had damaged his best friend in numerous ways. Knowing it and dealing with the reality were entirely different prospects.

 

****

 

Days passed, and Steve fell into despair. He did his best to avoid giving Bucky direct orders, mainly by making suggestions, but it was clear that Bucky was following his lead. From the time they woke in the morning until Steve gave up on the day and fell into bed at night, Bucky was his obedient, silent shadow. He made no comments in response to Steve’s narration of the posted schedules, the reasons Daniel had given for keeping a routine, and continued admonishments to eat as much as he wanted, as often as he wanted.

Steve talked while Bucky listened stoically. Steve cooked the food they’d eaten growing up and Bucky robotically ate what was put before him, forcing Steve to serve Bucky whatever he himself ate, in an equal portion, hoping it was enough to satisfy his appetite. Steve led them on jogs around the properly, adding whatever strength and flexibility exercises he could dream up, and Bucky copied him, adapting to his missing arm with frightful speed. Every night, Steve lay awake in bed and hoped that Bucky actually slept, though the growing circles under their eyes indicated it was unlikely.

Through it all, there was no hint of Bucky having a personality, much less a memory of being a person.

Steve refused to deviate from the schedule on the first Saturday, citing the others’ lack of preparations for alternate plans as his excuse. They allowed it, though Steve knew it was a short-lived reprieve. Bucky would need to interact with others and in the depths of night, Steve was able to admit to himself that a short break from the constant responsibility had a certain appeal.

Midway through the second week, the sounds of violent crashing woke Steve from a rare moment of rest in the middle of the night. He dashed into the living room, shield on his arm, to find Bucky slashing the sofa with a knife and kicking at it with his bare feet. Bucky was silent as he darted and danced his way around his invisible opponent, alternately attacking and retreating as he fought monsters only he could see. The few decorations Steve had allowed, such as coasters and table lamps, found new lives as weapons.

“Stand down, soldier,” Steve snapped, half prepared for Bucky to turn on him.

Bucky snapped to attention, breathing hard, and waited for further orders.

“Are you hurt?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Did you accomplish your mission?”

For a moment, just a fraction of a second, Bucky’s brow furrowed as he surveyed the damage. It didn’t warrant notice, except Steve was so desperate for any sign that there was a person living inside the body of his friend, that even that instant of confusion meant the world. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then let’s go back to bed. If you’ll put the knife in the kitchen, you can sharpen it in the morning. Heaven knows if the armchair might come after us next.”

He woke from his doze to the sound of Bucky talking softly.

“32557038 Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038 Sargeant—”

“Bucky?” Steve interrupted lifting his head from the pillow. He must have moved away from Bucky in the night. “You’re safe now. You’re home in New York.”

Bucky didn’t answer, just kept muttering to himself as he stared at the ceiling. “32557038 Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038 Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I’m going to turn on the light,” he warned before reaching over and flipping the switch. Bucky was covered in sweat and his face was pale. He didn’t react to the flood of light, just clenched his hand around the sheet and kept repeating himself. It was like finding him in Azzano all over again. “You look like you got too hot and it probably triggered a nightmare,” Steve said, mostly talking to cover the fact he had no idea what he should do. “How about you take a quick shower while I change the bed and dig out some fresh night clothes for you?”

Bucky visibly flinched at that suggestion, his eyes sliding over Steve in abject fear before losing once more at the ceiling. The pace of his speech increased.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’ll at least get a wet washcloth for you to wipe the sweat from your face. I always felt better after you gave me one. I guess it’s my turn to take care of you now, isn’t it?”

He got up and fetched a cloth he had dampened with water that was cool but not cold. He returned to the bed and sat down on the edge, pressing the fabric against Bucky’s fist. “Here, it’s cool, but not icy. You can take if you want.” He waited, but Bucky didn’t move, so Steve switched tactics. “Okay, then I’ll do it. I’m just going to wipe it across your forehead.”

Moving slowly, he gently wiped the sweat away. Bucky fell silent. “See? Feels good, doesn’t it? I can’t count the times you did this for me. I’m going to do your cheeks next, then your throat.”

As Steve did as he’d promised, Bucky finally looked away from the ceiling and made eye contact for the first time since Peggy’s visit. Tiny wrinkles formed as he furrowed his brow slightly before asking in a whisper, “Why?”

“Because you’re my best friend and I’m with you to the end of the line.”

“Steve?”

“I’m right here. You’re safe. It was a just a nightmare. We’re both safe now. Try to sleep.” He couldn’t help himself. He just had to cup his hand on the side of Bucky’s face, gently stroking his thumb across his cheek. “I’m going to go dump this back in the sink and I’ll be right back.”

Except he couldn’t move. Bucky closed his eyes as he put his hand on Steve’s wrist. “You came for me?”

“Always. Sorry it took so long this time. The plane crash caused a bit of a delay.” He choked back a sob. “I won’t let you down again.”

Within moments, it was clear that Bucky had fallen asleep. Steve spent the rest of the night sitting there, too grateful for the moment of hope to move and risk waking Bucky.

 

****

 

After their morning run, Steve turned to Bucky. “I need to go talk to Howard. You can come with me or go back to the guest house.” He waited a moment, but Bucky made no move. “Okay.”

Quietly they entered through the back door, where Edwin was currently working in the kitchen.

“Is Howard here?”

“He’s downstairs in his workshop.”

“That worries you.”

Edwin paused. “He has a business to run. Taking a couple of days for personal reasons is one thing. Hiding from his responsibilities was something Mr. Stane aided him with.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He mentally hoisted that load into his back. What was one more thing to carry?

“Thank you.”

Downstairs, they found Howard tinkering. The man was a ball of unfocused energy that was clearly avoiding any real work. Bucky made a beeline for the cell and locked himself in before lying on the blanket.

“It makes your fella feel safe, knowing he can’t hurt anyone without making an effort. He can let his guard down and sleep.” Howard looked up at Steve. “You need more sleep, too. Take the couch. I’ll keep watch.”

There was too much information to unpack. It left Steve unsure what to address first. He just stood there, mute, as he watched Howard pretend to work.

“You’re not fooling anyone Steve. I’ve seen how you look at him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Denial?” Howard shook his head. “That’s a river in Egypt. Do better.” He twirled a screwdriver in his hands. “What can I do for you?”

“Bucky had a nightmare last night. The guest house couch is completely destroyed.”

Howard said a prayer and looked up. “Thank you!” He beamed, looking back at Steve. “That was the ugliest, most hideous couch I ever laid eyes on. Did you ever sit on it? Rocks were more comfortable.”

“It looked expensive.”

“It was!” Howard grinned. “Don’t worry about it. He’s alive. He’s bound to do some damage as he works out his anger.”

“You are, too, if you don’t get back to work.”

“Edwin sent you?” Steve saw Howard’s guard go up.

“He’s concerned.” Steve sighed and paced away. “I’ve got no business telling you what to do. But I know you worked hard for a very long time to build your company. I also know that a lot of good people's livelihoods depend on that company being there next week…and next month. Stane was one man, and he can’t be allowed to destroy all those lives just because your confidence is shot.”

“You think this is a matter of confidence?”

“I think you’re rattled, with good reason. I also know you’re smart enough to do right by the people counting on you. Hiding down here won’t fix anything.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You take a nap right now, and tomorrow, I’ll head back to the office and get back to work.”

“Promise?” Steve asked, offering his hand.

They shook on it. “Promise.”

 

****

 

When Steve woke, he actually felt rested. The smell of supper was wafting down the stairs and his stomach rumbled in appreciation. “Whatever Edwin is cooking, it smells fantastic.”

“You should join us. Boiling everything belongs in the past.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I am. Then talk to Edwin about learning to cook like a modern man.” Howard looked over at Bucky’s sleeping form. “It might be a good project for both of you. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Steve considered for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll see what Bucky thinks about it,” he said before he unlocked the cell door.

The sound of the key in the lock was enough to send Bucky to his feet, standing at attention.

“Whoa, Bucky. Relax. You’re not in any trouble. I just wanted to open this before I head upstairs. You about ready to eat dinner?”

Bucky looked at him and nodded once, very carefully. Steve tried not to be disappointed as he turned to lead the way.

“Smells good,” he heard Bucky say softly.

It took everything he had to keep walking. It was the first time Bucky had spoken without being prompted. Steve wanted to hurl himself into Bucky’s embrace and hug him tight. Instead, he just nodded and said, “Sure does.”

 

****

 

Upstairs, Steve stopped and turned to Bucky. “Howard invited us to eat with them in the dining room. We can do that if you want or take some food back to the guest house if you’re more comfortable. There’s no wrong answer, so please tell me what you prefer. We can always eat with them another time.”

Bucky stared at Steve’s feet, almost visibly bracing himself. “Guest house,” he mumbled, then ducked his head, expecting a blow.

“Thank you for telling me. Let’s go fix some plates in the kitchen and head down there.” Slowly, he placed his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I think it was hard for you to tell me that and I’m proud of you for making the effort. It took courage, but you always were a courageous man. I’m not a bit surprised to find that hasn’t changed.”

Figuring that was enough emotion for both of them, he turned on his heel and led the way into the kitchen. “Edwin, that smells absolutely delicious. Howard invited us to join you, but we’re going to fix plates to take with us today. We’ll join you another time when Bucky feels more like himself.”

“Of course. Here, let me get you each a tray with plate covers to keep the food warm.”

“I have another favor to ask, if you’re willing,” Steve hesitated, hoping this wasn’t too much of a request. He watched Edwin putter about the large kitchen, totally at ease in his environment.

“I’m here to help you both in any way I can.”

“Are you willing to try to teach a couple of lost causes how to cook? It’s been pointed out to me that there’s a better way than boiling everything. The fancy things you make were out of our budgets growing up, so I’ve been cooking like I used to.”

Edwin didn’t even try to repress his shudder. “I apologize for my negligence. I had not considered your past or I would have been providing you with meals during your stay.”

Steve held up his hands, noting out of the corner of his eye that Bucky was watching their conversation with open fascination. Well, open to Steve, who knew every expression and every tell. To anyone else, his face probably looked blank. “I never expected room service. But Howard suggested I talk to you about learning to do more than burn water.”

“Sir, it would be my pleasure and honor. Mr. Barnes, are you likewise interested in such instruction? You are welcome to decline. In that case, your role would be to decide whether or not the results of his labors are edible or fated for the compost pile.”

Steve shook his head. “Asking a depression boy to throw out food he doesn't like won’t happen.”

Edwin smiled softly and regarded Bucky with kindness. “I suspect Mr. Barnes is capable of a great many things, if we only give him a chance.”

“What do you say, Buck? Do you want to cook or eat?”

“Both.”

“An excellent choice, Mr. Barnes. It is indeed satisfying to eat a well-made dish you prepared for yourself. We can begin tomorrow after you complete your morning exercises. For now, I will suggest you take this with you.” He retrieved a battered book with a red plaid cover from a cupboard and handed it to Steve. “The first few pages are full of basic information. This is one of my favorite cookbooks because it assumes you know nothing and still want to have a life outside of the kitchen. I suggest you read the first few pages over, then find three things you each want to make.”

Steve took the book and thumbed through it. There was an entire chapter devoted to appetizers.

“Don’t worry about the classifications,” Edwin said, having observed Steve’s furrowed brow. “If you want to make cookies for a month, then nothing but appetizers, that’s fine. Once you know some basic techniques, you’ll discover how easy it is to expand your repertoire. Tomorrow, we can look at your choices and see what we can make with the ingredients I have on hand. I’ll add the rest to my shopping list and we’ll try those later in the week. “

Steve handed the book to Bucky, who took it from him and held it against his chest. He chastised himself for not remembering that Bucky had only one arm at the moment. “We’ll read over it. Thank you, Edwin.”

“It is my pleasure, gentlemen. Let’s prepare your trays so you can eat while the food is hot.”


	9. Lessons in Modern Living

 

Sunday afternoon found them in Howard’s basement workshop, as usual. As had become his habit, Bucky was in the cell, sleeping on the twin mattress that had appeared after Howard had observed it made him feel safe to rest there while Steve and Howard talked. Steve had lost track of how many weeks it had been, but then, all of the days bled together, except for Saturdays. Their daily routines often involved visits to Howard workshop in the late afternoon, and on Sunday mornings, especially if Tony was visiting. Howard was making an effort to be kinder and more encouraging to Tony. In turn, Tony was spending more time at home. The changes in the Stark household were slow but moving in the right direction.

For the second weekend in a row, Tony was wearing the same shirt, a bright the-dye with the words “MIT Student Homophile League” across the front.

"Tell me about your shirt.” Steve was curious, and he wasn’t good for much more than handing Tony tools as he asked for them while he worked on a sketch of the young man. The repairs to Bucky’s arm were taking a lot of Tony’s free time when he came home to visit. From what Maria had said, it was a miracle he was making the effort to come home. Perhaps almost losing his parents had shaken all of them out of bad habits.

“I’m a member.”

“What is the group?”

“It’s a support group for gay, lesbian, and bisexual people.” Tony semi-frowned at him. “That a problem?”

Steve shook his head. “You mean inverts and queers?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Those terms are rude, so don’t use them. I guess the terminology has changed since your day. Gays are men who are attracted to men, lesbians are women who are attracted to women, and bisexuals are people of either gender attracted to both men and women. The club also supports transgendered folks, which are people with an identity that doesn’t match their original plumbing. Some of them have surgery to switch that, some don’t, and it’s rude to ask.”

Steve straightened in shock. “You mean people don’t have to hide anymore?”

Tony shook his head, focused on his work. “Nope. It’s not perfect, don’t get me wrong. We’ve got a long fight ahead of us before we get equal protection, marriage rights, yada yada yada, but you’re not likely to be beaten to a pulp just for kissing another guy.” He glanced up at Steve, waggling his eyebrows. “Good thing, too, because I like kissing guys as much as I like kissing gals… among other things.”

“There’s an official university club at MIT for people like us?”

“It’s not an official club, if you mean actively supported by the administration. That said, they know we’re there, and they’re not doing anything to get rid of us. Actually, they’ve been pretty good about giving us informal support.” Tony tinkered a bit, then set his tools down. “Back up. You said ‘like us.’”

Steve blushed a deep red but said nothing as he looked at the floor.

Tony looked over at Bucky’s sleeping form. “Does he know how you feel about him?”

Steve shook his head, horrified at the thought.

“Since it’s pretty clear how you feel about Aunt Peggy, I’m guessing you’re bisexual like me.”

Steve shrugged one shoulder. “The serum was supposed to fix everything.”

“Only the stuff that was wrong with you. Who you love? That’s not wrong. It’s never wrong. Separate from that, straight up sex that doesn’t hurt someone is okay, too. Kids are off limits, obviously, because they can’t give consent. But if you and another person, or persons,” he added, emphasizing the plural, “want to have sex, it’s no one else’s business. I’ve had a few one-night-stands that were absolutely epic.” His eyes lost focus as he remembered. “A couple others were more educational than fun, but still worth it.”

“You’re only fifteen!”

“Making the most of the college experience!”

Steve laughed at that, then grew serious. “Do your parents know…about you?”

Tony waved his hand. “Sort of, I think? Dad thinks it’s a phase. Mom fears being a grandma and AIDS, in that order. We don’t really talk about it.” He ran his hands through his hair. “We don’t really talk.”

“I noticed.”

“As far as your friend over there? You should tell him. After everything you’ve been through together, he’s not going to suddenly stop being your friend. For all you know, he feels the same way.”

Steve shook his head. “You shoulda seen him with the dames.”

“He might be like us and like both. You’ll never know unless you ask.”

 

****

 

A couple of weeks after his talk with Tony, Steve noticed a change in Bucky. He was no longer as focused on being as obedient and compliant as possible. Instead, he seemed to have decided to observe Steve. He was also extremely circumspect. If not for Steve’s hyperawareness of Bucky’s every move, he might not have noticed the way his oldest friend was watching him with his peripheral vision. Any time Steve tried to catch Bucky in the act, he found Bucky completely engrossed with whatever task he had assigned himself, be it reading a book or sharpening the kitchen knives.

It came to a head one sultry afternoon when the summer heat made Steve feel lazy. They’d stuffed themselves on lunch, having made a chicken and pasta dish that Edwin complemented them both on preparing. Now, Steve was half dozing in the armchair as he pretended to read a book.

“Steve?”

In an instant, he was alert. “What can I do for you, pal?”

“Walk?”

“Sure. Let me get my shoes.”

Bucky led the way. It made Steve’s chest burst with pride at how much more confident he had become in the weeks since he’d first attacked them. Steve was getting used to shy smiles, and occasionally a hand that reached out to touch him, as if confirming that having free will was truly permitted once more.

Right now, Bucky had him by the hand and was leading him through the undergrowth, instead of one of the perfectly manicured trails the landscapers maintained. In a few minutes, Bucky stopped and pointed to the folding chair sitting in the middle of the forest. On the seat lay Steve’s sketchbook and a case of pencils. “You used to draw.”

“I did.”

“Draw now.”

“Okay.” Agreeing wasn’t going to cost him anything. Clearly, Bucky had something specific in mind. “What are you going to do?”

In answer, Bucky began to strip off his clothes and drop them in a pile.

“Bucky?”

“Sit. Draw.” With that, a very naked Bucky sat down on a stump Steve hadn’t noticed and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Good pose?”

“But—" Steve stopped and collected his thoughts. “You always hated sitting still.”

“Sniper. Hydra.” He smiled a bit sadly as the dappled light caressed his hair. “Draw, Steve.”

“Okay. On the condition that you move any time you want to or need to. You know I lose track of time, so I’m counting on you to get us back to the house in time for dinner.”

“Draw.”

“You’re getting bossy today, aren’t you?” Steve couldn’t hide his grin. There were glimmers of the man he had known shining through. This new person would never be the same, but the war had changed both of them. It was enough to know that this version of his friend still knew him. He sat down, opened the sketchbook, and started laying out the basic lines of Bucky’s form.

As he worked, Bucky watched him with that intense gaze. There was something new in it, some emotion or thought Steve didn’t recognize. Even worse, seeing Bucky so relaxed and carefree— while also being given explicit directions to observe every corded muscle—was reawakening a libido he’d desperately tried to anesthetize.

The dappled sunlight made parts of his metal shoulder gleam. Half of his body was in shadow, but nothing could hide the muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen. He was more compact than Steve but incredibly strong. The dark hair on his legs looked soft to the touch, as did the dark line of hair below his navel.

Steve shifted in his chair, trying to focus more on his sketching and less on what he was feeling. He wanted to touch, to hold Bucky close and whisper his innermost secrets in Bucky’s ear. Instead, he swallowed hard and focused on his pencil.

Once he had enough of the details down that he could finish the sketch later, he cleared his throat and turned to a fresh page. “Do you mind picking a new pose and turning so your left side is facing me?”

“Why?” The small lines of worry that flitted across Bucky’s forehead concerned him.

“Because I want to get a better view of your left side. Every scar you have tells the story of your survival and I’m very glad you’re here. Maybe once Howard and Tony finish building you a new arm, you’ll let me draw you with it, too.”

Bucky seemed to relax at his explanation and shifted his pose so his left side and not his right was closest to Steve. “What if I don’t want it?” he asked in a voice that was hesitant if you knew what to listen for.

“Then you don’t have to use it. Tony took the old one off the night we found you to help make sure you couldn’t hurt us when you didn’t know we were your friends. Once they realized how heavy it was, they figured they could make it lighter, more sensitive, and less of a drag on your body. Plus, there were concerns that it had something in it that could hurt you. No one is going to make you use it. You can function just fine with one arm if that’s what you want to do.”

“I can’t fight as well.”

“Probably not. But anyone who comes for you is going to have to go through me, so that shouldn’t be your main motivation in deciding.”

“They’ll never stop trying. There’s always another fight coming.”

“Well, you always did call me a trouble magnet, and I can’t argue with my tendency to get mixed up in trouble.” Steve looked up from his sketch, trying to put everything he felt, everything he dared not say, into his eyes. “I want you to do what is best for you. You put yourself between me and danger for most of my life. It’s only fair I return the favor now.”

“Can I think about it?”

“You take as long as you need. If you need a century to decide what you want, so be it.” Steve couldn’t help but look at Bucky’s lips. He wanted to kiss them. Hours spent curled up in bed kissing Bucky seemed like an impossible dream. It was a dream he desperately wanted.

“What if I know what I want?” Something extra was in Bucky’s tone. Again, that mysterious extra element was adding layers to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Then I want you to have it, whatever it is.” _Just please, let me be there beside you_ , he added mentally.

 

****

 

Something changed after that day, and Steve wasn’t sure what to do about it. After posing nude, Bucky seemed reluctant to stay clothed when they were alone in the guest house. He’d spend one day walking around in nothing but a pair of Steve’s boxers, only to spend the next day in nothing but one of Steve’s shirts and a pair of socks.

It wasn’t that Steve minded, because Bucky’s body was as gorgeous as ever. It was just that Steve _noticed_. He was painfully aware of what was covered and what was hidden under whatever garments Bucky deigned to wear, and his libido made sure he never missed any of it. Whether it was Bucky stretching in the morning to reach a glass from an upper shelf or bending over to get vegetables from the crisper drawer, his skin was commanding Steve’s gaze with a magnetic pull that didn’t allow him to look away. In stolen moments, he sketched the images in his sketchbook, half mortified at his fixation and half-drunk with lust. Worst of all was when Bucky slid into bed beside him every night, pressing up against him as if daring him to pull away.

Steve’s morning runs became longer and faster, in hopes that a blistering pace would tire him out too thoroughly to become aroused. His showers, in turn, became colder and more frequent. He needed to do something to break the cycle, but fear of losing the possibility kept him pining silently for a future he’d never allowed himself to dream of.

Bucky was absolutely no help, either. If anything, he seemed to sense Steve’s disquiet, if not the cause, and was extra attentive, if not extra clothed. He commented more than once that Steve processed his thoughts through drawing, so whatever was bothering him, he clearly needed time to work through it. And so, Bucky continued to pose for him, demanding that Steve draw him day after day.

It was enough to drive a fella mad.


	10. Finding His Way Back

“What year is it?”

“1986,” Steve answered softly as they walked the trails on the property one August evening shortly before dusk. Fireflies kept flashing and the sound of cicadas in the trees was hurting Steve’s ears.

“I didn’t think it had been that long. I suppose I should have, seeing how the others have all aged. Tony didn’t exit the womb as a teenager.” Bucky kicked at the leaves. “They kept me in cryo so much I didn’t age like everyone else.”

“Ironic, that ice saved us both.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not long after you fell from the train, we went after Schmidt—the guy with the red face.” Steve stopped walking and leaned against a tree, forehead pressed against his forearm as the bark dug into his tender flesh. Quietly, he explained about the plane and the crash that had leapfrogged him into the future.

He’d barely finished before Bucky grabbed him and spun him around, pressing his back against the tree he’d been leaning on. “You crashed the plane on purpose?”

Steve nodded.

Bucky pulled away and paced nearby, spewing the most creative set of expletives Steve had heard from him in a long time. “You’re an idiot!” he finally said, before leaning against Steven and resting his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “I thought I was a mess, but you? They should give you an award or something.”

“I did the best I could.”

“I know.”

What more was there to say? Steve was at a loss for words.

Before the silence consumed them, Bucky just shook his head once more at Steve and headed back to the guest house.

 

****

 

Over the next several weeks, Bucky slowly became more talkative. Steve’s libido had him so distracted he wasn’t properly appreciating the changes. If Bucky wasn’t flashing skin, he was staring at Steve like he was a puzzle to be solved. He didn’t understand it, but he would be patient. Clearly, Bucky needed time to work through everything he’d endured. Time and patience were two things Steve could give him.

“I can’t decide if you’re stubborn, clueless, or both,” Bucky said one night once they’d gone to bed and turned out the lights.

“Probably both.”

“At least the clueless part explains your lousy luck with the dames back in the day.”

“Don’t discount Peggy.” He winced a bit at his defensive tone hit his own ears. But still, what he and Peggy shared was real.

“I’m not.” Bucky patted his chest. He was lying on his left side with his right arm stretched over Steve’s torso. “That ship sailed, and you weren’t on it, which puts you back at square one.”

“She’s happy.”

“Yes. But you aren’t, and you deserve to be. You could be.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Are you?”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so opted for silence. He had everything he needed right here. If he could have just this, he’d be happy. It would be enough. He let his mind drift as sleep invited herself into the room, if not the bed.

“I’ve finally realized something,” Bucky said some time later.

“Hmm?”

“We don’t talk much.”

“We talk all the time.”

“Not about things that matter.”

“You’re what matters.” That didn’t seem like enough, so he tried again. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You look, but you don’t see.”

“What do you want me to see, Buck?” He was so tired. Was this really the time for a heavy conversation?”

“Go to sleep, Steve.”

 

****

 

He thought that was the end of it, but a few days later, when Bucky was sprawled on the couch and insisting Steve draw him, the subject came up again.

“I’m not him, and I don’t think you see that.”

It took a moment for Steve to pull out of his flow and realize Bucky was talking to him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, ‘I’m not him and I don’t think you see that.’”

Steve laid his pencil down. Bucky’s eyes were the same blue-grey they’d always been. Older now, more shaded with experiences no one should endure, but still recognizable. “Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

“I’m not the Bucky you grew up with, or even fought the war with.”

“I know that. I’m not the same guy who crashed a plane loaded with bombs into the North Atlantic, either, but I remember him. I remember you.”

“Do you? Or do you remember who you thought I was?”

“Why am I suddenly wishing I could get drunk?” Steve laid his pad and pencils on the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You tell me,” Bucky countered, sitting up and leaning forward, elbow on his knee.

He seemed totally comfortable with his nudity. Maybe Hydra had destroyed his sense of modesty, too? Steve feared it was true, and it hurt to think of such a basic thing being taken from his oldest friend. “You’re talking in riddles and I’m missing the decoder ring.”

Bucky’s mouth turned up in a smirk that was all too familiar. “Tell Howard you want to sue Cracker Jack. Tony says everything gets solved with lawsuits these days.”

“What do want from me, Bucky? We’re all trying to help, but I’m the first to admit that we’re making this up as we go. There’s no manual I can read on helping your best friend recover from decades of torture.”

“Why’s it your job? Can’t Howard afford a shrink?”

“Is that what you want? We get outsiders involved, there’s no telling where it ends. Howard recreated the serum. Hydra wanted it and sent you to get it.” He was failing terribly to keep the anger from his voice, but he never did know when to shut up. He got up to pace. “Only it turns out, Hydra is inside half the government at best, three-fourths of it at worst. You want to invite them back into your life and see if they can destroy what’s left of you?”

“Why do you care? The guy who fell from that train? He’s dead and he’s not coming back. I have a few of his memories and an expanded skill set that fella could only dream of.”

Steve spun on his heel at that. “All I want is for you to have the freedom to choose. I want you to have the freedom to live the life you want to live, not the life others have forced on you. I want you safe from Hydra’s influence and out of their reach. If the life you want means we set you up in an obscure village in the middle of nowhere, tending a flock of llamas and weaving baskets out of grass, I’ll make it happen.”

“What if I don’t want to see you again?”

Steve flinched, unable to hide that the thought hurt him deeply. He took a deep breath. “I’ll survive. It’s not what I’d choose, but I’ll die to protect your choices, Bucky. I’m with you to the end of the line. If you want me to swear on my ma’s grave that I’ll stay off of whatever continent you’re on, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Why?”

The question was asked in a whisper. Those eyes that saw too much were looking at him with naked curiosity.

“Why does the sun rise in the east? Why is water wet? You matter to me. You always have.”

Bucky shook his head, seemingly satisfied with the answer and frustrated for reasons Steve couldn’t fathom. “How can someone with perfect vision be so blind?”

“I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“Obviously.” Bucky’s tone was wry as he leaned back into his pose. “Draw. Your brain still needs time to marinate.”

In bed that night, Bucky curled up against him as usual. “Staying on a different continent won’t be necessary, so don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

The knot that had grown in Steve’s chest all day relaxed and he was able to breathe normally. “Good to know.”

 

****

 

“Hey, boys, come see,” Howard said, waving Steve and Bucky over to the workbench.

“Looks the same,” Bucky said softly from his spot behind Steve. The metal arm Hydra had forced on him was lying on the bench.

 

“We rebuilt the entire thing from scratch on the inside,” Tony explained. “The plates are a vibranium alloy. We can’t get more of it, so we didn’t mess with it.”

“We can get rid of the star if you want,” Howard offered. “We didn’t want to change the appearance without asking.”

“I want my wings.”

“The same color as your commando patch?” Howard asked, looking Bucky in the eye.

Bucky nodded.

“The guys will be thrilled,” Howard said.

Steve nodded. “It’s great you did this, but we can’t pressure him to use it. It’s his choice. There’s nothing wrong with going through life with one arm.”

“Of course, it’s his choice! You two can use it as a doorstop if you want. The important thing is that it’s lighter, more sensitive, and won’t cause him constant pain if he does use it. Tony’s work with the microprocessors is groundbreaking. I couldn’t have done it as well. We’re going to take what we learned and open up a branch of SI dedicated to prosthetics. That was Tony’s idea. When he’s ready, he’ll be in charge of that part of the business.” Howard’s pride in Tony’s innovations was evident and it made Steve happy to see the elder Stark finally giving his son the recognition the teen desperately craved.

“We still need FDA approval. That can take a long time.”

Howard waved away Tony’s concerns. “You’ll see for yourself what some strategic funding does behind closed doors. The technology is sound. Clinical trials won’t be an issue since we’ll fund the work and get volunteers through the V.A.”

“I want it.”

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You sure?”

Bucky nodded.

“Don’t look so dour, Steve. He can always take it off again. I’m frankly more concerned about the parts that can’t be removed. Do you remember what they did?”

Bucky nodded. “I was always awake for the surgeries.”

Steve swallowed hard. He was not going to react. He _wasn’t._

“That’s a cheerful mental image.” Tony offered. “I’m going to go throw up in the corner.”

Howard shuddered slightly. “Can’t say I’m surprised. We knew they were bastards. I’m going to suggest that someday, when you’re ready, we get a team of experts together and see what we can do to minimize the damage they did to your body. I’m terrified about what we’ll find. I can promise you that we’ll use anesthetics.”

“No surgery.”

“There’s no pressure,” Howard hastened to reassure him. “This is long-term talk right now. If you start having problems I want you to know we can probably help. We’ll only do what you agree to, after talking it all out and going over options. You don’t need to suffer pain or discomfort going forward. Come to me and we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Bucky nodded once, looking cautiously at his metal arm. “Can I touch it?”

“It’s your arm, Barnes.” Howard shrugged. “Cuddle it like a touch starved woman if you want.”

“I think you should use it to knock some sense into a certain thick skull,” Tony said as he gave Bucky a significant look that Steve couldn’t decipher.

“That might be a lost cause,” Bucky answered softly. The sadness in his eyes was painful for Steve to see, doubly so for not understanding why it was there.

 

****

 

“This may give your system a jolt when we connect it again,” Tony warned as he held the arm near Bucky’s shoulder.

“Always does.”

Steve winced as the arm snapped into place. Bucky didn’t flinch, but Steve knew his tells, knew that this was causing him pain. “You okay, pal?”

Bucky made a fist with the metal hand and moved the arm in circles both large and small.

Tony grew worried about the silence and tried to fill it. “The wings aren’t painted on. Dad melted down an ugly old ring and fused it with the vibranium.”

“It was Tony’s idea.”

“No, I said paint wouldn’t last and we needed something more durable.”

Before the argument over who should get credit could escalate, Bucky spoke. “You did a good job with this. Both of you.” He looked at Howard. “You’ve been treating him better. Less arguing, more cooperating. It’s good. Better than the picture Steve drew a few weeks ago. The two of you together are better than either of you alone.”

 

Howard, uncomfortable with any reference to emotions, ignored him. “Any problems with the sensory feedback? How’s the weight? Do you feel off balance?”

“There’s no pain.”

“Of course, there isn’t pain!” Howard snapped.

Steve watched quietly as both Starks realized what Bucky’s compliment really meant.

Howard’s gaze grew dark. “You get even a twinge of discomfort from that, you take it off and come see me yesterday, you hear me, Barnes? You’ve been hurt enough. If I find out you’re hiding pain from this, I’ll rip it off and beat you over the head with it just to make a point!”

Bucky nodded slightly, just enough to acknowledge the order. “I need time before making a report.”

“There’s no pressure!”

“Dad! He gets it. Stop hovering.” Tony rubbed his fingers down the metal plates of Bucky’s forearm and watched the plates ripple in response. “So cool. Seriously, take some time with it and then yell at us for everything we mucked up. It’s still waterproof, so don’t worry about getting it wet. If you decide not to use it, I’m just going to ask you to occasionally wear it in the workshop so we can get your feedback on how to make better prosthetics for others.” He shrugged, clearly trying to pretend he didn’t care one way or another if Bucky liked it. “The rest of the time, keep it on a bookshelf if you want.”

“You did good, kid. You and your pop made it mine.”

“You know what else should be yours, don’t you?”

“Working on it, kid.”

Steven didn’t understand that comment, and he knew without looking that Bucky’s expression was resigned because he heard it in his voice.

There was a time he knew what Bucky was thinking with just a glance. They had whole conversations with the twitch of an eyebrow, a glance, and a nod. Now, Bucky spoke a language he couldn’t understand, and it twisted a knife in his heart.

All he could do was keep sketching and praying the answer would come to him.

 

* * *

A glimpse of Steve's sketchbook: 

 

 


	11. The Breaking Point

It was a normal day on the subway. The crowds were thick so Steve was tucked under Bucky’s arm, letting his friend protect him from the mass of bodies pressing them. Without warning, a shot rang out and Bucky was thrown from the car. Steve lunged after him, hanging out of the opening as he reached for his friend. “Hold on!”

Bucky was having over the edge of the ravine, a thin metal bar the only connection keeping him from certain death. He clung to that bar with both hands, looking at Steve with desperation.

Steve made his way outside, reaching as far as he could. It wasn’t enough. He watched in horror as Bucky fell into the flames of the building in Azzano. His best friend was gone.

“Don’t leave me! Stop leaving me!” he screamed as he watched Bucky file aboard the ship with the other soldiers heading to the war front. “I need you here.”

Sobs wracked his body. “Stop leaving me,” he pleaded as he clung to the body beneath him.

“I’m not going anywhere, pal.” That reassurance was followed by others as Steve let his grief out. “Is that what’s been eating at you?”

Finally, the words he was hearing began to register. He scrambled back, rubbing the tears from his cheeks. Bucky was sitting in bed, leaning against the headboard. He looked tired and worried in the soft glow given off by the bedside lamp.

“You back with me? That was some nightmare.”

Steve looked around, seeing the room as if it were the first time. He’d been hugging Bucky’s legs, wrestling with him as he cried. He nodded, unsure what else to say.

Bucky reached over and snagged the box of tissues, his metal fingers gleaming in the light. “Wipe your face before you flood the place.”

Steve obeyed, still shaken by the fleeting memories of his dream. It took everything he had not to tackle Bucky and wrap himself around him, letting the weight of Bucky’s body press him into the bed and cover him like a blanket.

“Want to talk about it?”

Steve shook his head.

“You kept screaming my name, telling me to grab your hand.”

Steve busied himself with the tissues, avoiding any eye contact.

“It that what happened when I fell? I don’t remember it, to be honest.”

“You don’t remember falling from the train?” His voice sounded hoarse, startling him enough that he looked up. Blue, worry-filled eyes met his.

“I remember the terrifying ride on a wire down to the train, but nothing after that.” He shrugged. “You should see what your memory is like after being electrocuted on a regular basis.”

Steve just gaped at him.

“They had a chair. Something that went over my head. I remember it always hurt, and after, I didn’t remember anything. Bits and pieces have started coming back. There’s no context, but I think that’s how they made me forget.”

Steve scrambled off the bed and all but ran for the bathroom. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Nope.” Bucky got up to follow him.

“I’m fine. It was just a nightmare.” Cold water on his face helped ground him. He’d use the bathroom, maybe go take a walk outside and get some air. Once his heart stopped pounding, he’d be all right.

“You’re not fine. I know that sounds pretty rich, coming from me. But at least I know I’m still putting myself together. You, on the other hand, don’t seem able to see that you’re falling apart.”

“I just need to clear my head. I’m going for a walk. Go back to sleep.”

Bucky disappeared as Steve dried off his face. He looked at his reflection and wasn’t surprised to find he looked haggard.

“Put these on.” Bucky shoved a pair of shoes at him, a pair of socks rolled up and stuffed inside. “A shirt might not be a bad idea, either. Mosquitoes might find serum blood extra tasty. They seem to love mine.”

“You?” Steve shook his head. He felt like his brain was stuffed full of cotton balls.

“I know you noticed I was different after Azzano. Zola was perfecting his own version of your serum.”

“But you’re… you.” Steve gestured to Bucky’s body, with was the same muscled physique he’d always had.

“I didn’t spend my youth keeping my deathbed warm. Your dad was a big guy. Your mom always said so. I remember that clearly. It’s the years with Hydra that are scrambled up here.” Bucky tapped his temple with a finger.

Steve watched, fascinated with how easily he used the metal arm.

“Yeah, it works just like the real one.” Bucky gestured to the shoes Steve was now holding. “You need me to prove it by tying those for you?”

“What?” He looked down at his bare feet. “No.”

“Are we going for a walk or are you coming back to bed?”

Steve just stood there, long enough that Bucky swore under his breath and knelt down. “Gimme your foot.” When Steve didn’t move, Bucky smacked his calf. “Now!”

Obediently, Steve lifted his foot and Bucky put on his sock, then his shoe. “Claim to be a grown man and you still can’t dress yourself,” he heard Bucky muttering between expletives and comments about his recklessness.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“Yeah?” Bucky tipped his head up after he tightened the laces. “It’s three o’clock in the morning, Steven, and you’re so rattled you can’t even answer basic questions. So, yeah, someone needs to keep an eye on you.” He stood up and poked Steve in the chest. “Some things haven’t changed.”

Steve turned out the light and followed Bucky outside.

“Lead the way,” Bucky said, gesturing at the property once the door was closed behind them. The quarter moon was hidden behind some clouds, but with the serum, Steve had no problems seeing. He was tempted to run, but he was still tired now that the initial adrenaline rush was behind him. He stood frozen with indecision.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Follow me, you idiot.”

 

****

 

Bucky led them to a small clearing he’d never noticed before. It amazed him how Howard had managed to find property just outside of the city that had so much forest. Something about the terrain must be too rugged for development, he mused as he watched Bucky unfold a blanket Steve hadn’t noticed him carrying. “Come lie down. We can’t see a lot with the cloud cover, but a few stars might make an appearance.”

After they were stretched out, Bucky covered them with another blanket he must have pulled from a magic hat. Bucky pulled Steve against him so he was tucked against his right side, head on Bucky’s chest, with Bucky’s arms around him. “It was easier to do this when you were smaller.”

“So much has changed.”

“And so much hasn’t. Talk to me, Steve. Please.”

“I dreamed you left me again.”

“For the war?”

“Every time.”

“Okay, that’s once for the war and a second time by falling from the train.”

“It’s gonna happen again. It always does.”

“Not by choice. It’s never been by choice.”

“I can’t do it again.” Steve felt the tears bubbling up inside him again.

“So that’s why you’re afraid to make a move? Thinking you’ll scare me away?” Bucky ruffled his hair. “Ain’t gonna happen, pal.”

Steve stiffened as he processed Bucky’s words. Did he mean—?

Bucky huffed softly. “Still don’t trust me enough to say it, do you?”

Steve felt himself being hugged a bit tighter as Bucky continued.

“I heard you and Tony talking about how things are now and with that club he’s in at school. Back in the day, I wasn’t about to risk our lives for that. You’d fought too hard to survive to have me throw it away when you’d have been just fine setting down with Carter. I pretty much told her as much one day when I’d had too much misery and not enough sleep. Told her she was one rare dame, to see you for who you were. She just nodded once and said she heard me, loud and clear.”

“Peggy?” When he stiffened and tried to pull away, Bucky held him down.

“Seeing Steve Rogers is apparently something most people can’t be bothered with. Lucky for me, cause it eliminated most of the competition.”

Steve lay there, too stunned to react. To think that all this time….

“If I’m too broken for you, it’s okay. I don’t expect you too—”

“No!” Steve didn’t give him a chance to finish that thought. Bucky loved him. Loved him as more than a brother or a friend, but really _loved_ him. His vision was too blurry to see, but when he lifted his head, he knew Bucky was smiling softly at him with that look of fond amusement he knew so well. “You’re not too broken for me,” Steve said, cutting him off. “Neither of us are who we were.”

“Maybe we can fit those broken pieces together in a way that keeps us both from falling apart.”

“I like that plan,” Steve whispered as Bucky cupped his hands around his face and pulled him down for a kiss.


	12. Epilogue: Several Months Later

“Come in, Elizabeth, and sit down,” Steve told their guest as he led her into the sunroom that overlooked the garden. The buds were starting to open on the trees and tulips were blooming in the flowerbeds. Edwin had already left a tray with iced tea and glasses on the coffee table nestled between two love seats that faced each other. It was the perfect place for their interview. “Do you want some iced tea? I can get you water if you prefer.”

“Iced tea is fine, sir.”

“Please, call me Steve. This is Bucky.” Steve gestured to his partner before he began to pour drinks.

“Relax. We don’t bite.” Bucky added as he sank into his seat and smiled at the young woman. “If you change your mind about this, it’s okay.”

“Are you kidding me? This is the opportunity of a lifetime. If I pass this up, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s the spirit,” Steve said before he sat down beside Bucky and took a sip. “How do you want to start?”

“Do you mind if I record this, just so I can get better notes later? I’ll erase it once I’ve made a transcript.”

“That’s fine,” Bucky said, not even glancing at Steve. “I imagine that does make it easier for you.”

“Just a bit. This way I can actively listen.” Elizabeth laid a small recorder on the table and then laid a notepad on her lap. The top half was filled with text that Steve assumed was her list of prepared questions. “My first question, I suppose, is are you sure you want to go about this with an interview I submit to _Out_ magazine? It’s probably the least orthodox way possible for you to announce your survival.”

Bucky laughed with such true joy it did things to Steve’s insides.

“That’s kind of the idea. After all the work Peggy did to keep the President from initiating another dog and pony show, we’re not about to change our approach now.”

“Are you talking about the President of the United States and Director Sousa?”

“That’s right. If you decide to do a follow-up book, or need to get corroboration from her, I can get you her phone number,” Bucky offered.

“Actually, all the Howlers have said they’ll talk to you if you want,” Steve offered.

“You want me to write a book about you?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve read a few so-called biographies about Steve and they’re terrible. They have no clue about who Steve was before the serum. If you want to fix that, we’re willing to help as long as we’re left alone by the media. You can do all the book tours you want, but our days in the public eye are done.”

“What he said,” Steve added, passing over a folder he’d hidden beneath the tray. “Howard’s PR department took some photos of us you can submit with your article. There are legal documents in there, too, giving you permission to use them.”

Elizabeth’s hands shook as she took the folder from Steve and took a quick glance inside. “These are amazing.” Looking up, she smiled impishly. “I also see they don’t reflect your new looks.”

Steve shrugged. “I get tired of shaving every day. I was ready for a change.”

“What he means is that we’re glad to leave Captain America and Sargent Barnes behind. Those pictures show the public what they want to see, not who we really are.”

“Do you view Captain America and Sargent Barnes as symbols or caricatures?”

“Both.” Steve sighed. “Captain America was created to sell war bonds. He’s part of a propaganda machine run by our government, and while I agree with some of it, I never set out to be a symbol. People have unrealistic expectations about what one person can do.”

Bucky snorted. “I want a copy of that recording, Elizabeth, so I have proof the punk just said that.” He turned to Steve. “You’ve been jumping into fights since you could walk because you have it in your head that one person can change the world. You’re just pissed that people assume what the government says Cap stands for is what you stand for. Sometimes it’s true. Lots of times, though, it isn’t.”

Steve gestured to Bucky. “What he said.” Looking at the ceiling, he added, “This article is going to cause an outcry. There’s going to be talk about me giving up the shield.”

“Not happening!” Bucky leaned back, hands folded behind his head. “It’s hanging over the headboard of our bed. Howard gave it to Steve, and it’s Steve’s to keep.”

“Still, I know there’s going to be talk about me giving it back. But I hope… I want to believe, that there will be kids out there, people like us, who know that I’m on their side. I’m just like them, except growing up, I didn’t let myself think about who I was attracted to because it could have gotten me killed.”

“We’ve always been a part of society,” Bucky added, “but we weren’t allowed to be in the open. If Cap and Sarge are going to be symbols, we’re going to make sure they’re a symbol for everyone, not just straight old white guys.”

Steve picked up the narrative. “So, when we were talking about how to let the public know we both survived the war, we had the idea of giving an interview to someone who understood and was willing to publish it in a magazine that represents who we are. We asked Tony what he thought since he’s part of that club at MIT, and he suggested we reach out to you. Who better to write about a couple of queer war vets than a club member majoring in journalism and interested in history?”

“Howard said if _Out_ isn't interested, let him know and he’ll put his PR team to work helping you find a place to publish.”

“We’re rambling, Buck.” Steve shook his head slightly. They were supposed to be giving an interview, not monopolizing the conversation. “Go ahead, ask your questions and we’ll see if we can’t do an actual interview.”

Elizabeth looked down at her tablet. “Actually, why don’t you start with your last days fighting the war and tell me how you got from there to here.”

Steve looked at Bucky. “Start with the train?”

“Start with the train.” Bucky shuddered slightly. “Better start with how the three of us got on the train in the first place.”

“You’ve never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Not until you admit it was payback for making you ride the Cyclone.”

 

****

 

Two pitchers of iced tea later, Elizabeth laid her pen down. “Just a few more questions and I think we’re done for now.”

“Go ahead.”

“How have the Howling Commandos and your other colleagues from back then reacted to the news you’re in a romantic relationship?”

“They’ve all been great.”

Steve nodded, agreeing with Bucky. “Howard had us figured out even before we did. Everyone has been wonderful.”

“Did it make things awkward with Director Sousa or her husband?”

“Did you know we saved Daniel’s life, back in the war?” Bucky interrupted before Steve could formulate his own answer. “He’s a great guy and he’s been a real friend to us.”

“It wasn’t awkward, really. The hardest part for me was wrapping my head around the amount of time I’d jumped over. It was hard, seeing that Peggy had gotten older and moved on. I mean one day, I’m talking to her on the radio and expecting to die, and the next, I’m waking up in a hospital bed and she’s telling me forty years have passed. I’ll always care about her, but I’m thrilled she and Daniel found each other. They’re good together, and they’ve been incredibly supportive of us.”

“What are you doing now? I’m sure SHIELD would be happy to have you as agents or something.”

“We’re both enrolled in college. Steve always wanted to go to art school. It’s wonderful to see him finally getting to fulfill that dream.”

“What are you majoring in, Bucky?”

“Business and engineering. I owe Howard and Maria so much, it seems like the best way to pay them back is help out at Stark Industries.”

“Howard’s grooming him to be the next CFO of Stark Industries. After Stane’s betrayal, he’s had a hard time trusting people to help with the business side of the company. With us helping out there, that will free Tony up to spend most of his time and energy in the lab inventing stuff instead of managing the business.”

“Easy for the art major to say.”

“I’m majoring in visual design, Bucky, so I’m able to help the marketing team.”

“You never told me that!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, I have. It’s not my fault your eyes glaze over when I talk about my art classes.”

“You might have a small point,” Bucky admitted, tapping his fingers on the arm of the sofa.

“You have no plans to step back into the public eye?”

Bucky grew more serious and leaned forward. “I knew this punk long before he got gobbled up by the Captain America machine and I watched it slowly eat him alive. It’s time for Steve Rogers to have a chance at a normal life.”

“As normal as it can be when hanging around with this jerk,” Steve teased, taking Bucky’s left hand in his own and brushing his lips across the knuckles. “We’re just a couple of kids from Brooklyn who are trying to do what’s right.”

Bucky nodded. “We’ll do PR in our roles at Stark Industries and we’re okay with that. We’re not afraid of speaking our minds and being in front of the cameras. We’re just done being part of the government’s propaganda machine.”

“Do you have any worries that Hydra will try to put you under their control again?”

“Let them try,” Steve growled, and Bucky shook his head.

“Relax, Steve.” Bucky turned back to Elizabeth. “I know there’s a chance they’ll try, but the programming is broken. We’ve tested it a million ways and the code words don’t work anymore. They had to keep electrocuting me to fry my brain into compliance. Now that I’ve had months to heal, they’d have to start over from scratch. Peggy’s got them so busy scuttling into dark corners in hopes of surviving, I doubt they even have the resources to take me back alive. Plus, they have to know that if they even try, they’ll have Steve and me on their case for the rest of his unnaturally long life. I can’t see how I’m worth that effort given those risks.”

 

****

After the magazine article was published, Elizabeth learned first-hand why Steve wanted no part of a publicity tour. She told him as much when she called after doing back to back interviews for various news outlets in New York City. “Be sure to watch _The Tonight Show_ tonight,” she reminded them before hanging up.

All six adults living at the Stark mansion gathered around the television as Johnny Carson greeted Elizabeth and talked with her about the article and what it was like to meet the two men she’d written about.

“You’re sure there’s no chance I can get them to appear on my show sometime?”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “Steve, especially, was adamant that his days of press tours are behind him. They just want to enjoy life as college students.”

“How about SHIELD? Surely Director Sousa has tried to get them to join the agency she founded.”

“Hell, no!” Bucky snarled at the TV. “Them’s fighting words, Johnny!”

Elizabeth laughed. “I didn’t include it in the article, but when I asked about that, Bucky said, and I quote, ‘When a hole opens in the sky over Manhattan and a bunch of alien invaders comes pouring through, I’ll pick up my guns, Steve will pick up his shield, and we’ll dive back into the fight. Until then, we’re focused on the fact we got to come home from the war. Peggy’s a smart dame and never even suggested we join up. She knows what the war cost us.’”

Johnny laughed. “That’s quite the mental picture General Barnes painted. You said in the article that General Rogers—”

“Bucky and Steve,” Elizabeth corrected.

“What’s wrong with using their titles?”

“If Bucky were here, you’d get a half hour lecture. The short answer is they want to return to civilian life.”

“Damn right!” Bucky said from the couch, talking over Elizabeth. Steve elbowed him to be quiet.

Johnny held up his hands. “Point taken. Back to my question. You said in the article that Steve Rogers was studying art. Is there any chance he’ll have a show someday?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Knowing Steve, he’ll use a pseudonym so his art is judged on its own merits. He let me look at one of his sketchbooks and showed me a painting he’s working on. I was impressed by the quality of the work, though I’m the first to admit I have no formal training or knowledge of what makes art good.” Elizabeth made air quotes as she ended her sentence.

“Don’t need a degree to have good taste, darlin,’” Bucky told the TV. Steve saw Maria nodding her agreement.

“Bucky is studying business and engineering. Isn’t that an unusual combination?” Johnny asked.

“Steve’s taking accounting and marketing classes, too. Both of them intend to work at Stark Industries. After the mess with Hydra, they wanted to give Howard the gift of trustworthy people working for him. That will also give Tony time to finish his education and decide what role he wants to have at SI going forward.”

“What I hear you saying is that Captain America and Sergeant Barnes have been lost to history.”

“I’m working on a book about their lives. They know they’re going to be recognized when they go out in public. Bucky’s metal arm, at least for the moment, is rather distinctive. Besides that, it’s hard not to notice their speed when they go on early morning runs through the city. They certainly aren’t going to react poorly to someone recognizing them and asking to shake their hand or pose for a picture. They just want to be allowed to close that chapter of their lives and come home from their war. If we really respect their sacrifices, we’ll respect that choice.”

“Why did they have you write an article? Why didn’t they just keep their return quiet?”

“They were both offended by the suggestion they get new identification with birthdates adjusted for the years they were MIA. They also deeply appreciate how far society has come in accepting people who happen to love others of the same gender. We have a long way to go, but they told me that they hope by coming forward, it will give hope to kids who are still in denial or trapped in self-loathing. I personally find it rather tragic that neither of them dared to admit to the other how they felt until just this year.”

“You said the other Howling Commandos are all totally supportive of their relationship.”

“Why is that so surprising? Not only were they the first racially integrated unit of US service members, people forget that the team had members from three different countries as well. Bucky picked them based on their experiences in Azzano. Steve fought long and hard to get those choices approved. It still irritates him that Director Sousa was held back from most of their deployments. Steve told me if Peggy were a man, she would have been in charge of their team from the beginning. Maybe by the time Steve and Bucky are old men, the rest of society will have caught up to them.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t take that long,” Johnny said and turned to the camera. “We’ll be right back.”

“Elizabeth is doing an amazing job,” Bucky said as a commercial for some carbonated beverage began to play. “Thank you for staying home.”

“You asked me to.”

“I finally dug Steve Rogers out from under all that Captain America crap he was buried under. I’m not about to risk losing him again.”

Steve silenced him with a chaste kiss. “I’m never lost as long as you’re by my side, Buck.”

Bucky twined their fingers together. “If that’s the case, you’ll never be lost again.”


End file.
